Poor Choices
by TheSunsetAce
Summary: Meet Jacky Grey: a cinnamon loving, scheming, snarky, and somewhat oblivious twenty something with absolutely terrible luck. Add a crashed car, a huge amount of debt and a group of attractive men claiming to be Countries into the mix, and Jacky's life gets a whole new twist. Whether she wants it or not. OC x ?
1. Chapter 1: The Death of My Car

Hey everyone!

I don't quite know what to say... Basically I'm just trying to improve my writing skills here, and being a big fan of Hetalia, I thought: "Eh, why not? I'll write a story! And what the heck, I'll even use an OC!"

So, here you go. I hope you enjoy the first chapter of my story!

Chapter One: The Death of My Car. Literally.

"Lauren?" I stared slack jawed at the situation before me. "What the_ hell _happened to my car?"

My silver Volkswagen-my _baby_-had been slammed straight through the side of a building. The official looking structure had probably looked fancy at one point, with a rose garden, white trimming on the roof and old-fashioned brick walls. Now, the rose garden was in shreds, debris was strewn everywhere, and you could clearly see the lobby through the enormous hole caved in the side of the brick. The car had totaled a media center inside the lobby too, and what remained of a television screen, front desk and projector was now a jumble of wires and metal. By some miraculous force that I had thanked a million times over, Lauren wasn't hurt at all; the medics had confirmed that. My wheeled amigo had made sure she was all right, but in the process had suffered a sad, sad fate: it was completely ruined. The back axel of the car had come clean off and was, for whatever reason, leaning on the side of the gaping hole in the building. Every window was shattered, the frame was caved in on multiple places, and the car alarm wouldn't stop going off.

Lauren stood next to me, nervously shuffling from foot to foot. "It's kind of a long story."

I whimpered slightly.

"Jacky?"

"My car is dead. _Dead._ This day started off so great, too. Now my baby is destroyed and this building is _completely trashed_." I buried my head in my hands.

"Well, that's the power of German engineering…" My soon to be ex-best friend chuckled awkwardly. I promptly smacked her upside the head.

"Don't you _dare_ make a joke out of this," I growled angrily "especially since my insurance isn't going to cover any of it since _you_ were driving the car! Lauren, I'm flat broke right now! I've got nothing! Zip, zero, _nada_! What do you expect me to tell the building manager, huh? 'Surprise, sir, I can't cover the damages and neither will my insurance'?"

"Come on Jacky," Lauren put a delicately manicured hand on my shoulder in an attempt to give me comfort, "You could always get a loan—"

I let out a derisive snort. "I don't trust banks. Besides, ever heard of 'never a borrower nor a lender be'?" I turned to Lauren. "You're paying for this."

"I can't!" She whined shamefacedly, "I'm pretty much broke too!"

"Oh. Really." My voice was cold and clipped. "You expect me to believe that?"

"Yes! I got a whole new summer wardrobe and I am literally waiting for my next paycheck—"

"Clothes, Lauren? _Really_?" By this point, I was on the verge of blowing a gasket. "Are you _seriously_ going to stick with such a shallow reason as your excuse?" I took a deep breath and glared at the platinum blond in front of me. "I knew you liked clothes, Lauren, but I had no idea that you valued them over other people's possessions. Normally, people treat borrowed items with a certain amount of _respect_. Apparently I was wrong." Her lip quivered and her big blue eyes began to fill with tears.

"I'm really sorry Jacky! The other driver just kept swerving into my lane, and I had to back away from him, and he just kept drifting into me, and I didn't know what to do so I made a right turn straight into the building! It all just happened so fast!" The words bubbled from her lips faster and faster. _Oh god, I didn't realize that was what happened._ I thought, instantly feeling awful,_ Some asshole made her crash into a building, and she could've been killed…And now she's going to cry. Dammit, how horrible can I be?_ "I'll return all the clothes so that I can make a down payment! I'll pick up extra shifts at the restaurant! I'll—"

"Stop." I rubbed my temples, feeling guilty and drained. "For heaven's freaking sake, just stop, okay? It wasn't your fault if the other driver was driving dangerously." I glanced back at the wreck. "We'll… We'll figure something out, alright? Please forgive-" I was suddenly tackle hugged.

"I'm sho shorry!" Lauren was full out crying now, words slurred with the force of the tears. I awkwardly patted her on the back as I fought for breath. Lauren was much taller than my five feet five inches, about five foot ten. It was pretty easy to be smushed in one of her bear-hugs too; she was deceptively strong for her lack of muscle.

"Can't. Breathe." I chocked out, "Let. Go. Please." She finally released me, still sniffling. I panted a little bit, attempting to regain my breath. "Look, I forgive you. It wasn't your fault. Frankly I should be the one apologizing after saying things like that." Patting her arm, I stared sincerely up into her eyes. "I'm sorry I was angry at you, especially since I didn't know the whole story. And I'm honestly really, _really_ glad you're okay. Will you forgive me?"

Lauren beamed at me. "Of course, but no more judging me and my clothes buying habits."

I gave a grudging smile in return. "I'm making no promises." Running a hand through my short black bob I took a moment to look around. "Now, help me find the person in charge. We need to have an incredibly depressing conversation about how much money I owe."

"Try talking to one of the cops," Lauren suggested as she scanned the scene around us, "that guy there looks promising." She pointed to a tall, muscular officer with deep set eyes. He was obviously busy, currently taking notes from someone who probably witnessed the accident. I raised my eyebrows at Lauren, but she just innocently tilted her head.

"He looks a little busy. Why don't _you_ go talk to him and I'll—" Lauren was already halfway across the pavement. _Ladies and gentlemen, the flirt is back!_ Rolling my eyes, I looked for someone who might actually be able to help me. An older, experienced looking cop eating a sandwich caught my attention, and I made my way over to where he stood. "Excuse me, officer?"

He smiled pleasantly at me. "How can I help you today ma'am?"

"Well, it's actually about the accident. You see my friend, Lauren Johnston, she was the one driving the car— well, it was my car, actually— and I just wanted to talk with the building manager about—"

"Your friend better hope she has insurance." The portly man cut me off and took another bite of sandwich, "If not, that poor girl is going to jail."

I froze. "Excuse me?" The officer looked at me sympathetically.

"That's the way the law works, ma'am. If her insurance doesn't cover the damages, we're going to have to take her in. And if it does cover the damages, the price of her insurance is going to skyrocket until she can pay everything off. Considering everything that's been broken, that girl's probably going to be in debt for a long time."

I nodded, my face a blank mask. Inside, though, I was reeling. Because it was my car, I had thought I was going to be the one to cover the damages. But if what the cop said was true, that means Lauren—or rather Lauren's insurance—would be paying for the accident.

Last time I checked, Lauren didn't have insurance.

Which meant Lauren would be going to jail.

Shit.

My thoughts sped up to a mile a minute. Lauren wasn't exactly the most emotionally stable person I've ever met; that's one of the reasons I felt so rotten when I made her cry. She could barely handle the rude customers at the restaurant she works at. She would sometimes call me up after her shift, crying hysterically about how somebody snubbed her after she said 'Come Again!', or how when she accidentally spilled water on a customer he went on to curse her to hell and gone. Breakups with boyfriends were even worse; it took about three weeks on average before she would finally stop crying at the mention of the guy's name. I would always have to calm her down after any trauma, being the responsible, protective one in our friendship. Jail would absolutely _break_ her. And the more I thought about it, the less it seemed likely that Lauren was going to be able to get out of this. The cops would find out soon enough that she didn't have any coverage. Lauren would go to jail, and I wouldn't be able to do anything about it. Unless…

_Unless I can cut a deal before the cops find out. _

Now, before we continue this little tale, I just would like to point something out the readers. I have never been good at making decisions in high pressure situations. Normally, I'm a pretty reserved kinda girl, level-headed and calm. However, if my friends get in harm's way or my apartment catches fire, despite my best efforts I usually take the riskiest move without thinking things through. Not only that, but once I get started on something, it's nearly impossible for me to stop until I've seen it through. Usually that's a good thing; in fact it helped me get a job at the Antiques store I currently work at, thank you very much, but in combination with the fact that my ideas tend to _fail miserably_ when I'm under stress… Let's just say that everything following this point will be a prime example of what I just described.

You have been warned.

I set my jaw and straightened my jacket. "Do you know where I might be able to find the building manager? I need to talk to them." The officer looked perplexed at my new determined look. He shrugged it off though, and pointed to the building.

"My best guess is that they're somewhere inside. There's a whole bunch of maids, and I'm sure they'll be able to help you find whoever runs the building. Check around the back, there's an entrance over there."

"Thanks for your help!" I sprinted over to the direction he pointed. I passed Lauren, who gave me a wink and a thumbs-up before leaning into the handsome officer she was flirting with. I grinned back at her as I registered a blush on his face. _Good thing she's keeping him distracted, it'll give me more time,_ I thought happily before returning my focus to the task at hand. After I arrived at the back door, I knocked rapidly, practically jumping up and down from anxiety.

_Please oh please answer the door! I seriously hope that I can make this work…_

"Hello? How may I help you today?" A woman about my height had answered the door with a small smile. I was shocked momentarily. When the cop had said maid, my mind had immediately interpreted it as 'cleaning staff'. This lady was a full on _maid_: she had the low-cut black dress with the baby doll sleeves, the frilly white apron, and the knee-high white socks of a classic French maid outfit. Her light brown hair even had that weird, square, frilly, almost-hat that maids wore. I took a deep breath in an attempt to hide my surprise, holding my hands behind my back and smiling in a way that I hoped looked confident.

"Hello, my name is Jacky Grey, and I was wondering if I might be able to talk to the person in charge. It's about the accident and it's very important."

"I'm afraid not." The maid's voice suddenly became tight with restraint. From what, I wasn't sure, but she looked _really_ angry about something. "The man in charge is currently involved in a very important meeting with international partners. You'll have to come back later."

"I'm afraid I can't do that. This has to be dealt with today." The maid stiffened at my response.

"Well, you're going to have to come back some other time. He. Is. Busy." She emphasized each word with a sharp intake of breath.

"Like I said, it's really important, would you mind if I just came inside and—"

SLAM!

I flinched at the sound of the door being shut in my face. My frustration was slowly building, and I was getting more impatient by the second. I was about to walk away in an attempt to find another entrance before I stopped myself. _This is for Lauren. Remember, you're doing this so she doesn't have to go to jail. I'm sure that this lady is just having a bad day. Stay calm, and try again._ I rolled my shoulders and knocked on the door for the second time. There was a pause before the same maid opened the door. A frown marred her pretty features.

"Go away!"

"I can't. Like I said, it's really quite important for me to talk with the person in charge." The maid began to tremble angrily as she looked at me.

"You can't! He-He's busy!" She glared at me, still shaking.

"I'm sorry, but I'm kind of confused. Have I done something to offend you?"

"GOD, YOU SOUND JUST LIKE HIM! _SOOOO_ FREAKING POLITE ALL THE DAMNED TIME!" I shot backwards at the sudden outburst. My hands were in the universally recognized 'I surrender/ Oh-god-lady-please-don't-kill-me' gesture. "WHY WON'T HE NOTICE ME?! I mean, I get that I'm part of the help, but does that mean that I can't even have a normal conversation with him?!" She looked at me helplessly, and I gathered that she was expecting me to answer her question.

"Uh…no?"

Apparently that was the answer she was looking for. "That's right! I mean, aren't I a human being?" She put a hand to her heart dramatically. "Don't I deserve to love and be loved?"

"Yep. Yep you do. I'm just going to go over here and—" She grabbed onto my shoulder and I panicked. _Code red! She's clingy!_

"It's just, I'm such a sucker for the accent, you know? And then his eyes-!" She swooned at her imaginary love, who was apparently standing to my left. "His eyes are like, like a _forest_. Such a deep _green_! And he's always such a gentleman to everyone! We've barely talked, but I just know! I know he's the one!" She sank to her knees, letting go of my shoulder and gazing passionately at the (still empty) space to my left. "Of course whenever they have meetings over here _I'm_ the one who gets to prepare his tea, and I _always_ make it with love! I'm sure he knows! HE HAS TO KNOW!" Her eyes became somewhat rabid. I just kept nodding and took a few small steps backwards, using my peripheral vision to try to find an escape.

_I'm talking with a crazy person! Somebody please help me!_ Suddenly the lady in front of me broke down into tears. _Oh no. Oh no, No, NO!_

"I-I just want him to l-love me back. Ev-Every night, I look out my window and think about him. I have his picture that I keep with me every night. I-I also have one on my wall… I kiss it constantly." _I bet you do. I don't doubt that for a second._ "I try to con-convince myself that it's not a good idea. He lives in another country for crying out loud! B-But a girl can dream, right?" Snot was dribbling down over her lips and mingling with the tears on her chin. I gagged slightly. I don't handle snot well at all. It's _disgusting_.

"Hey, stop crying," I averted my eye's from the woman's face, trying to focus on something else less disgusting as I feverishly dug through my jeans pocket for a tissue of some kind, moving to my jacket when I proved unsuccessful. "Everybody has some problems with romance at one time or another, right? You just have to work through it and find the right—_THANK GOD_ I'VE GOT TISSUES!" I shoved the wad of Kleenex at the woman, who took it gladly. I gagged yet again as she blew her nose and wiped her face.

Suddenly an idea sprung into my head and I began to inch to the doorway. "You know what? You stay out here and, uh, cry some more. I hear it's therapeutic. I'll go inside and get you some water. By the time I come back, you'll have had an epiphany and you and your dream man, and you'll find some way to get together-" I was now inside the doorway. "Be right back!"

I quickly headed down the hallway, powerwalking away from the lovesick maid and her snot. I took a left when I reached the far wall and continued along, not really focusing on where I was going, but instead concentrating on how to bring up this _issue_ with a person who had _international partners_. The only international place I had ever been was Canada, and that was for the first five years of my life. I had permanently moved to the good old, U.S. of A. after that. But to talk to someone with business partners from all over the world… It was going to take some guts.

"But you've got plenty of guts!" I reassured myself aloud. "All you have to do is be professional about it. And for you, that's not even a challenge. Be professional about it. You're great at that." I continued to walk down the hall, practicing scenarios in my mind. _Hello, sir or ma'am, I'm Jacky Grey. _I mentally shook hands with a person in a suit._ I'm sorry to bother you at this time, but I actually have some news concerning the crash that happened earlier today. My friend is the one who plowed through your building a few hours ago. Wait, no, don't say that, it puts Lauren in a bad light. How about: My friend was involved in the accident? Yeah, that sounds—_

"Oof!" I stumbled backwards. "Sorry, my bad. I wasn't looking where I was going."

"It's alright, no problem." I looked up to find I was facing another maid, this time a redhead, who smiled politely at me. "May I help you?"

I brightened, in a better mood after escaping the snot and feeling a little more confident after practicing my professionalism. "Yes, actually, you can. I'm looking for the person in charge here; it's about the accident that happened earlier this morning. Do you think I could meet up with them?"

"I'm sorry, but the man in charge is currently—"

"In a meeting with international partners, yes I know." I interrupted her, eager to get to the point. "But do you think that you might at least take me to the room? I can wait outside the doors until they're finished and talk with them then."

"That's not going to be possible." The maid sighed and folded her arms. "I'm sorry, but we're not even supposed to let people inside the building right now. The cops were the only exception. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"I don't think you understand, this is really important information," I persisted, "I really need to talk to them!" The maid frowned at me.

"How did you even get inside?" All of a sudden, she shot out and grabbed me by the shoulders.

"What are you doing? HEY!" I was being bodily dragged back down the opposite hallway from where I came. I flailed my arms and legs around in an attempt to free myself, but no such luck. She was deceptively strong! "You don't understand!"

"Oh, I understand perfectly. And I'm honestly sorry about this, but you're just going to have to come back another time." She kicked open the side door and tossed me out like a ragdoll. I tumbled end over end and finally skidded to a halt near a big tree. I spun around to point an accusatory finger at the already closing door.

"You can't drag me out!"

SLAM!

I winced. It felt like she had crushed my pride in the doorframe.

"Well, you kind of just did... But that wasn't fair!" I realized what I had just said and pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration. "Oh for heaven's freaking sake, I sound childish." I waved my hand about in a dismissive manner and continued. "Anyway the point is that you shouldn't just throw people out like that. It's rude, and I'm pretty sure my shoulders are going to bruise. I have very important things to—and I'm talking to a closed door. You know what? Screw it." I flopped onto my back and looked up towards the clouds, hoping to take some comfort in their detachment from my current predicament.

Spots of sun soaked sky could barely be seen through the branches of the tree I was next to. I bit my lip in disappointment. I got kicked out of the building twice, Lauren was probably going to jail, and this _stupid_ tree with its _stupid_ thick branches was blocking my view of the sky.

_Listen to me, complaining about a tree. It's not the tree's fault it's got sturdy looking branches._ I sat up and stared at the trunk of the tree. _Weird. It's got little nubs on it too. I wonder what kind of tree this is? _I looked up again, taking note of the strange shape of the leaves and how the thick branches would stretch all the way out to scratch the side of the building. This one particular branch rested underneath a second story window. From this angle it looked like it the window belonged to a hallway. And the window was open.

_Maybe, just __**maybe**__ I can… _

_Oh for heaven's freaking sake, that would be __**breaking and entering**__! Jacky, you were raised better than that! You're an adult. A mature, responsible adult with a promising life ahead of you. Don't go making stupid mistakes!_

_But even so…_ In my mind's eye I saw Lauren standing behind bars, trembling in fear as a faceless cell mate closed in on her and cracked their knuckles. I sighed. Imagination was both a blessing and a curse.

"…Lauren you are going to owe me _so_ much after this." I stood up and gave the tree a final once over. I touched my toes and did windmill motions with my arms in an attempt to stretch out my muscles. Placing my foot in a conveniently placed nub, I gave my balance a try. I stayed in place. So far, so good.

Lifting myself up onto the nub some more, I grabbed another piece of the bark that jutted out. My other leg lifted to find another foothold, and I progressed up the trunk of the tree. It was really quite easy until I reached the branches. Leaves jutted out every which way, and my jacket got caught so frequently on the twigs that I was positive I had torn it somewhere. Finally getting to the branch that stood underneath the window, I wormed my way onto my stomach. Slowly pulling myself forwards, I inched my way down, using twigs and other offshoots as leverage. Finally, after painstakingly scooting myself along, I reached the base of the window.

I stretched out my right hand and grabbed onto the white, wooden sill. Twisting slightly, I got onto my feet and peeked inside the building. The window did lead out into a hallway, and there wasn't anybody coming towards me from the right. Unfortunately, my position on the branch prevented me from looking left to see if there was anybody coming from that direction. I attempted to listen for footsteps, but the wind wouldn't stop blowing long enough for me to figure anything out. _I feel kind of like a spy all of a sudden. This is almost like a mystery novel,_ I smirked to myself. Then my face froze, _Oh man, I'm headed off to make a backhanded deal by sneaking into a building… And I'm Excited About It? WHY? _ I shook off my criminally inclined thoughts just as a huge gust of wind shook the branches. I let out a little yelp as the branch I was kneeling on launched me upwards.

_No! I'm going to fall!_ I pulled myself closer to the windowsill midair and reached out my other hand just in time to grab it. The rest of my body flopped hard against the side of the building and I winced, hands still latched onto the window ledge with adrenaline induced force.

So, just a recap for the folks at home: I am now dangling off of a _second story window_.

"It's okay, totally okay, I got this," my voice was shrill as I tried desperately not to panic, "I'm not going to fall, nope, not going to fall. Just gonna pull myself into this window here. It's aaaaaall good." Using what little upper body strength I had, I was able to pull myself up onto the window ledge. I opened the window a little higher so that I could fit through and slid one of my legs over the frame.

Unfortunately, I misjudged the distance from the window to the floor and fell through the window, making an especially graceful landing on my face.

"Ow!" I got up onto my hands and knees, rubbing my forehead angrily. "Oh man! Pain, pain, pain, _pain_!" I shook my head in order to get rid of the feeling and blinked away the stars in my vision. As my sight cleared, I found myself staring at a very large pair of shiny black combat boots. Slowly letting my eyes trail upwards, I found that they belonged to a very tall, very intimidating looking blonde man in a business suit. I groaned and rubbed my temples in frustration.

_God __**Dammit**__. _


	2. Chapter 2: Bat Shit Crazy INC

I'm flabbergasted.

People liked this?! *taps screen* Alrighty Then! I guess that means I'll keep going!

FYI: I probably won't update this quickly in the future. Chapters 1 and 2 were originally just one chapter, but I figured it would be a lot better to split it up into two. It was getting kind of long. Also, language might also go up. A few of the countries that Jacky will meet (*cough* Romano *cough*) tend to swear a lot, and Jacky will drop and f-bomb here and there if she gets too frustrated.

Shout out to all the people who favorited this: CookieMonster Needs Rehab, Limphidora, Lurking Pheonix, Ruby Salamander and missykim. I hope I can continue to please you with the (mis)adventures of Jacky, because she's going to go through hell. Stay Tuned. It'll be fun.

...

Chapter Two: My Introduction to Bat-Shit Crazy INC.

You know that awkward moment when you've just snuck into a building only to get caught by one of the scary-ass employees? And you're just kind of looking at them, and they're just kind of looking at you, and both of you are waiting for the other one to say something?

That's pretty much the current situation.

He was probably the most intimidating person I've ever seen in my entire life. Exuding a huge amount of confidence and determination, at six foot two he looked like someone who was used to being in charge. His blond hair was slicked back, and he held his eyebrows in an almost disappointed slant that bothered me. Not to say that he wasn't attractive, because he was, but I'm just usually the one with the condescending brows, so it was a little odd to see it on somebody else. I would also like to point out that this man had the most piercing gaze I have ever seen in my entire life. He had crystal blue eyes, and I know when you hear someone say that you usually brush it off and think 'That's not very likely. They're just trying to be poetic.' I know you are, since I've thought the exact same thing before myself. But this time it wasn't an exaggeration. I don't think I've ever seen blue eyes so…_vibrant _before. When they look at you, it's almost like you're being examined with a microscope that's picking up every single one of your flaws, analyzing your body, digging deep and judging harshly. It's a _scary_ feeling. Looking back, I think it took a full minute until I finally got the guts to stand up and dust myself off.

"I can't believe the stupid shit I get myself into." I muttered angrily, staring at my shoes and straightening my clothes to avoid further eye-contact. "This is the worst day ever."

"I assume this has something to do with you climbing through the window, _ja_?" Oh hey, German accent. A handsome foreigner? Lauren would be all over him in a millisecond. I took a deep breath to gather my resolve—_you got this, you can handle this_—and gazed up at him with a confident almost-smirk on my face. I was pleased to see he looked taken aback.

"Yes, it has everything to do with it. But I'm afraid that it's not exactly any of your business. All I need to do is talk with the person in charge here and I'll take my leave." When he raised a skeptical eyebrow, I put my hand over my heart. "Honest to goodness-ly."

There was a momentary pause before he formed an almost- smirk of his own. "And what If I told you that I was the person in charge?"

My thoughts became a chaotic jumble that sounded like: _Oh god why—that cocky bastard thinks he's just so—I hate my life, I really hate—look at that stupid look on his face, so damn confident—don't lose your cool—just my luck—what's with that smirk he's wearing— life just wants me to die of utter— I can't believe that—_ Then all of a sudden, my mind became startlingly clear as one thought broke through the chaos.

_You know what?_

_ Fuck it. I'm out. _

And I turned around and walked away.

In any normal situation, this would have just been the end of the story. Girl sneaks into building, gets caught by scary German man with crystal blue eyes, regrets her ridiculous choices, immediately leaves, and attempts to scrounge enough money to bail/ bribe her friend out of Jail. Years later, as I knitted in my rocking chair on a whitewash porch, I would have chuckled through my dentures at what a silly woman I had been. Such a trouble maker, I should have been more mature at that age, oh ho!

In reality, what happened was just plain unexpected. I guess it was a foreshadowing of the levels of strangeness to come. The tall German man caught up to me, picked me up and threw me over his shoulder with ease, carrying me up the hallway and away from the stairs. It took me a few moments before I registered what was happening.

"Oi! Put me down!" I began flailing wildly in order for him to loosen his hold. He just tightened his grip on my waist.

"I'm afraid that's not an option at the moment."

"The hell is wrong with you?! You just can't pick people up like this!"

"_Ja_? Well too bad."

"This is kidnapping!"

"You just climbed in through a window to enter a building. I believe that is deemed breaking _und_ entering in the United States."

"Hey! Kidnapping is a worse crime by far!"

"I see your point," Out of the corner of my eye I could see his gaze shift over to my face, and I could of sworn the sadistic bastard looked amused for a second before his face returned to the serious default from before. "However you came in here, _und_ I am just acting out of self-defense."

"How the hell is this self-defense?!" I cried out, startling a passing maid. I turned to her with a pleading face, "Miss, please! You've got to help me out here!"

She blinked up at my face, startled enough to take me into consideration. I'm sure she would have done something too, that is if the big scary German man carrying me hadn't given her a death glare. The woman paled and scuttled away.

"No!" I reached a hand out towards her desperately. "Don't leave me!" She continued to walk away, and I played my most desperate card. "Please, as my fellow female you've got to help me out! What if he's a rapist?! Or a serial killer?!"

This actually got the woman's attention, and she turned to me worriedly. The man stopped in his tracks and glared up at me, then turned to defend himself by shouting loudly: "I am _not_ a rapist!"

"That's what a rapist would say!" I hammed up the act, wailing and burying my face in my hands. "And he didn't deny being a serial killer! Oh god, I'm going to die!"

"_Verdammt_, you're annoying!" He shouted, and I wailed even louder, adding a few sobs for dramatic effect. From my position on his shoulder I could _feel_ him sigh in exasperation, and he took on a mature—albeit a bit strained—air. "There is nothing to worry about. She's just hysterical since she nearly fell through the window. Would you close it please?"

Hesitantly, the maid nodded and did as she was bade with a "yes, sir". I just stared incredulously as she walked away. She believed _him_ over _me_. And I had been using _rape_ and _murder_ as an excuse to get out of this situation. I came to the conclusion that the staff here was either incredibly loyal, or absolutely insane.

I decided to go with the latter. It made me feel better.

The man continued to stride down the hall purposefully, but I had stopped struggling. I went limp, feeling tired and actually a little bit annoyed. By this point, the large German man's intimidation factor had been pushed to the back of my mind (primarily due to the fact that his vibrant blue eyes were no longer directed at my own), and the problem solving part of my brain began taking complete control. _I have to get down from here, and I've already tried the damsel in distress act… _

A question bubbled to my lips before I could stop myself. "Where are we going?" My voice came out desperate, and I cleared my throat to regain what little decency I had left. "If you don't mind me asking, that is." _There, much better. I'll go the polite way for a bit. _

"What, no more fake crying?" He huffed in frustration. I gave a noncommittal shrug.

"Not until somebody else walks by. But honestly, that probably wouldn't make a difference anyhow. Today I've discovered that maids as a whole don't seem to like me very much, and even if they did try to help, you'd probably intimidate the hell out of them like you did with that pour soul." There was a long pause.

"I am taking you to the man in charge. Isn't that what you wanted?" He bit out finally.

"Wait, you're not the person in charge?"

"_Nein_," then he muttered to himself angrily, "At least not today. Things would have been _very_ different if I were in charge today."

"Oh. Well, that changes things." Two things became startlingly clear. Firstly, he must have taken my reaction of walking away from him earlier as a rebuff of his position. And secondly, the German accent hinted that he was probably one of the 'international partners' the maids from earlier had told me about.

I sighed, and voiced my first discovery in the form of a question. "Did I offend you earlier? By walking away?"

His silence was all the affirmation I needed.

I hummed in a sympathetic way; mostly understanding, but I couldn't help it if it came out a little teasing. "I see. Well, for the record, I wasn't trying to offend you. I was embarrassed and took the opportunity to make a get-away. You did see me fall through the window, after all."

Again, I was met with silence.

"I apologize."

"…"

"I honest to goodness-ly mean that."

"…"

"I think you're just ignoring me now out of spite. It's really rude."

"…"

"You know what? I can be rude too. I have to say, this conversation is giving me the distinct impression of talking to a wall. You're just _that_ engaging."

"…"

"I'm sure you're happy to hear that it's frustrating too. You seem like the kind of person who would enjoy knowing that. You know, I might as well just have a conversation with myself." I put my chin in my one hand and waved the other about animatedly as I continued. "'Oh hello there, how are you doing today?' 'I'm fine thanks for asking, how about you?' 'Oh, you know the usual. But I must say, the craziest things seem to happen to me!' 'Oh really? Do tell!' 'Well, I was just trying to help out a friend, then all of a sudden I get kidnapped by a rapist—"I was jostled forcibly, nearly toppling off of his shoulder and onto the floor. "Hey!"

"Stop saying that I'm a rapist."

I sighed, completely fed up with this situation. "Then can you _please_ put me down?"

"_Nein_."

"Well," I thought quickly and came up with a reasonably logical argument, "If you really are taking me to go see the person in charge like you say you are, then you have no reason to keep carrying me. I _can_ walk, you know. I've been doing it for a long time too, so I've also got experience on my side. My walking skills will leave you speechless." His grip tightened infinitesimally on my waist, which I took as a non-verbal no—or nein, in this case. "Look, please put me down. I just want to walk, this is really not the most comfortable position to be in. And hey, if I try to sprint off you can always pick me up again!" I ended calmly, giving a fake chuckle to lighten the mood.

He took a few more steps then paused momentarily, considering what I had said. _Don't ruin the moment by interrupting, let him think it through. _

"_Fein._" He mumbled after a moment, and just as I was wondering if that meant 'fine' in German like I thought it did, he clasped both hands about my waist to lift me off of his shoulder and carefully put me down right in front of him. And when I say right in front of him, I mean my nose was practically brushing his chest. Blinking at the proximity, I quickly took half a step backwards before stretching.

I dusted off my jacket and addressed the tall German while staring at the wall, trying to avoid the eye-contact that would make me lose my nerve. "You're probably going to gain a reputation as some kind of pervert among the staff. I hope you're happy."

"_Und_ whose fault is that?" he hissed down at me.

I took a moment to tap my chin theatrically, irritation fueling my sarcasm. "Well gee sir, I don't know. Maybe since you were the one who slung me over your shoulder in the first place I'd say that it'd be your fault, now wouldn't it?" And then, gathering all the confidence I could muster, I swiveled my head upwards to look him in the eye and _smiled_. "But let's not dwell on the past. I believe you were escorting me to see the person in charge, right?"

His expression was a beautiful mix of flustered and furious. I had just enough nerve left to make my smile turn a bit softer, like you do when dealing with a little kid, and tilt my head slightly. "After you." His blue eyes flashed and I dropped my gaze to stare at my fingernails, barely holding up the charade of 'patient guest' when underneath my _holy crap his eyes are scary!_ thoughts were running around and screaming "Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!"

And to anyone who can understand that last analogy, I give my everlasting respect. And a high five.

"Right this way." He brusquely passed me, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Of course."

We walked for what seemed like ages down the hallway. I was only half aware of where we were heading, the other half of my brain had occupied itself with trying to figure out how on earth I was going to pull this off. The introduction bit was alright, I had practiced that earlier, but the negotiating parts that I would probably need were making me draw a blank. Thoughts kept swirling around endlessly, and as soon as one of them seemed like a good idea my logical side would come crashing down and point out exactly why it wouldn't work. I sighed hopelessly.

"Is there a problem?" I involuntarily flinched at the harshness of the tone.

"No, sir." The man stopped suddenly, and I was half expecting for him to turn around and chew me out until he motioned to a large set of double doors.

"This is the room."

"Oh, well thank you very much." German guy grunted in response. I wrung my hands nervously before weaving them together in a 'Please-Life-in-all-your-infinite-niceness-give-me -just-this-one-thing-and-I'll-be-good-forever' gesture. Clicking my heels together, a habit I exhibit when stressed, I muttered a quick "here we go" before pushing one of the double doors open.

I was met with absolute chaos.

Two men in the back of the room were rolling around on the ground in a jumble of arms and legs and hair as a blond in a business suit guffawed obnoxiously at them. One Asian man was suspiciously stroking a stuffed panda like a Bond villain, staring determinedly at another group of Asians who clamored loudly around a blank-faced man with jet black hair. On the right wall, a tall, silver haired man stood guarded by the three least intimidating security guards I've ever seen. They were literally huddled together and trembling as their charge smiled gently at them. A man in a mask peeked behind the large red window curtains, doing what I believed was a Phantom of the Opera impression and occasionally glaring over at a sleeping man (who was _drowning_ in cats) before silently retreating into his hiding place. Off to my left, two men stood casually off to the side. One was a frustrated young man with a curl who yelled expressively with his hands, and the other, a relaxed man with startling green eyes, simply laughed fondly at the gestures the first was making. And in the other corner, a group of three men were chocking another guy (with impressive Gravity Defying hair and a strange little hat) by using his own tie against him. At the long, large conference table in the center of the room, a few other people chatted amiably as if the whole thing was perfectly normal. And then one sight made me freeze. A blond in a brown business suit sat at the table, and was polishing his **gun**. _What the hell kind of company is this?! Bat-Shit Crazy Incorporated?!_

"_Mein Gott_, I leave for five minutes _und_ they start acting like children all over again!" The German man had moved to stand next to me, arms folded and an expression of tired disapproval stamped on his face. I turned to give him a disbelieving look.

"Hold up. Are you saying that this is normal?" A sudden cry of "PASTA!" made me jump. A shorter man with caramel-brown hair trotted up to the frustrated German and gave him a hug. Like a few other people I had seen in this room, a long strand of Curly-Q hair stuck out from the side of his bangs. His eyes were closed in a smile that was a blend of childish ditzy-ness and pure sunshine. It was pretty adorable the way he clung happily to my escort, but then I realized he was probably crazy and stopped that train of thought right at the station.

"Germany! I'm-a so glad you're back!" _Another foreigner? And Italian too, if the accent is real._ "I was so worried, vee~!"

"I just went to talk to the staff about lunch arrangements." The tall German sighed and patted the shorter Italian on the head comfortingly. "You didn't have to worry."

_Aww, that's really sweet... Wait, no! Both of them are crazy!_ But I had to admit, now that the Curly-Q had joined me and the German, the German guy had become a lot less intimidating, for which I was thankful. I could actually look him in the eye now without feeling horribly small. I guess the Italian Curly-Q added just enough cute to the situation that I wasn't scared anymore. The Italian one seemed to notice me just then, and the sweet smile he directed towards me made me gulp. _Oh dear, I have a bad feeling about this._ "Vee~! Germany, you-a brought a guest!" He skipped—no joke, actually _skipped_—over to where I stood a few paces away and snatched both of my hands in his. "Hello to you! It's-a nice to meet you, _bella_! I'm-a Italy Veniziano!"

My eyebrow quirked at the name, but I introduced myself anyhow. "Jacky Grey, nice to meet you too." I realized something, and turned to look at 'Germany', which was kind of difficult considering that the Italian man had begun to pump both my hands in an enthusiastic handshake. "So, is Mr. Veniziano the man in charge of the building?"

"_Nein_." The way he said it would have probably insulted me if I was Mr. Veniziano, but the Italian man just said "Vee~" and changed his grip to intertwine his fingers with mine. I vaguely wondered what "Vee~" meant. "_Nein_, Italy is definitely not the person in charge. The country hosting the meeting today is America." His tone changed to one of disgust. "Which makes sense, when you look at the way this meeting is being held."

"Germany, Italy, America… Lots of country code names." I muttered to nobody in particular. Germany snorted, and Italy tilted his head to the side. I rolled my eyes. "Hey, not judging what you guys call yourselves. That's your business, not mine. But I do need to talk to this America person. Since it looks like all of you are, um…" I searched for the right word as I scanned the room again, "_busy_, if you can just point him out to me I'll ask him my question—"

"DID SOMEBODY CALL FOR A HERO?!" I made a noise of shock and yanked my hands from Mr. Veniziano's in order to cover my ears. _So Loud—!_ I turned to aim a death glare at the body that held the obnoxious voice, and was met with the man who was previously laughing at the tussle across the room. He had large, friendly blue eyes surrounded by metal-rimmed glasses, and relaxed looking dirty-blond hair with a ridiculously large cowlick at the front. He was just as handsome as the other two I had been recently introduced to, but the fact that he had just yelled in my ear made me huffy and cautious. Without even looking down to notice me, the jerk, the newcomer grinned widely at Germany and Mr. Veniziano before continuing. "HAHAHA! (Insert a wince from me) Hey, Germany, glad you're back dude!"

"Bloody hell, Germany! What took you so long?!" I glanced over to the floor nearby, where a blond man with green eyes and fantastically bushy eyebrows had pinned another man to the floor. A British accent spiced his rude greeting. "Things have been completely out of hand! I motion that this is the last time America holds a meeting!"

"Seconded!" Came a faint voice from across the room. Looking around, I realized that some of the people in the room had begun to notice the current conversation and listen in. A few of them chuckled as America frowned.

"Hey, Britain, not cool dude! Things were going just fine until you and France started going at it!" I turned in total surprise to look at the man who had interrupted me earlier. Mr. Obnoxious was codename 'America'? Oh fan-freaking-tastic. How was I supposed to reason with a loud mouth? I chewed my lip in consideration. As Luck would have it, at this moment of awkward face-making I was finally noticed. America glanced down at me and blinked in surprise. His grin somehow got even larger and he looked me up and down. "Germany, I didn't know you were bringing back a hot chick!"

"Yeah." I drawled, frowning up at him. I turned to look at the German guy and jerked my thumb in America's direction. "You sure he's the guy in charge?"

I was surprised to see a flicker of amusement cross Germany's face. "_Ja_, he is."

America glanced indignantly between the two of us. "Hey! Why is that so hard to believe?"

I opened my mouth to respond when suddenly the man who was previously pinned to the ground by the Brit flung off his captor and leapt to his feet with a "Ohonhonhon!" Not gonna lie, it was kind of a creepy sound to make. His blond hair was wavy, and like mine reached the base of his neck. He also had blue eyes—_I'm sensing a theme here_—and showed off a bright smile above a scruffy goatee.

"_Bonjour, mademoiselle_! It's a pleasure to meet you!" He also gave me a quick scan.

_And this one's French._ "Uhm, Likewise? But sir, if you don't mind—" Something red flashed in front of my vision, and I took a startled step backwards.

The man had extended a rose to me. "_C'est pour vous! Une belle fleur pour une belle femme!_" I had no idea what he just said, but by the looks on everyone's faces I was guessing it was something cheesy. I stared at the flower for what seemed like ages, my mind not quite computing the fact that some random stranger was offering me a flower. I shrugged. _Eh, what harm could it do? _I took the rose and twirled in between two fingers, admiring it from all angles. It was actually really pretty.

I offered an uneasy sideways smile. "Ah, Thanks." Frenchie gave me a lecherous grin in response and inched closer to me. His eyes scanned me up and down yet again, this time straying on areas that would probably earn him a smack from a sassier woman who wasn't trying to keep her best friend out of jail. All I could do was roll my eyes and think: _Oh dear god, he's a pervert._ _I could do without being sexually harassed today, thank you very much. _I carefully placed the rose on the nearby conference table and shuffled sideways uncomfortably.

And then I tripped over a cat.

Well, not exactly. The little thing was in the process of taking a nap, and I had looked down just in time to realize I was about to step on it. Panicking, I tried to take a step backwards, my foot twisting in the loose rug on the floor as I flailed away. Then, for a second time that day, I misjudged my balancing capabilities and fell flat on my face.

I sat up, feeling dizzy, and rubbed my forehead. "Owch… Twice in one day." I hummed lightheadedly, ignoring the chuckles coming from around me. "You know, I'm really starting to think life hates me. That, or Tuesdays make me unbelievably uncoordinated." I straightened up suddenly and spun about on the floor. "Oh no! I didn't hurt the cat, did I?"

"The cat is fine." A British accent from above made me look up. It was the man who had pinned Frenchie to the ground. "Really, you Americans always seem to lack something important. In your case, it looks like self-preservation. Honestly, Miss, you should be more worried about yourself!"

Ignoring the somewhat indirect insult, I took one hand to massage my temple while the other waved him off. "I'll be okay. I'm just currently suffering from major embarrassment right now, nothing medical. I can power through."

He looked rather bemused. "With that attitude, I'm certain of it. Here," He suavely offered me his hand to help me up.

"Oh, thank—" Looking up into his face, I froze, my hand stopping a few inches short of his. His green eyes were momentarily confused while I had a flash back to earlier that day.

**_"It's just, I'm such a sucker for the accent, you know? And then his eyes-!" She swooned at her imaginary love, who was apparently standing to my left. "His eyes are like, like a _****forest****_. Such a deep green! And he's always such a gentleman—"_**

The _British_ man with _forest green_ eyes was helping me up like a _gentleman_.

This was the obsessed-snotty-maid's crush. I instantly feared for my life.

"NOOOhgawd!" I shot backwards, skidding along the floor until I my back collided against the table leg. "Please don't touch me!" British man looked mortally offended while Frenchie, Mr. Obnoxious and a few other people I hadn't given nicknames to yet guffawed loudly. "I'm Sorry! Sorry! Just stay about ten feet—wait you're a brit so how about three meters? Yeah, just stay three meters away from me."

"_Pardon me_?" I don't think I've ever seen anyone so utterly insulted in my entire life.

Feeling guilty, I quickly attempted to explain myself. "Normally, I would have loved the help and everything, honest to goodness-ly. It's just that you have a scary ass fangirl maid with a _major_ crush on you downstairs, and I refuse to invoke her wrath." Remembering '**the incident**' from when my roommate Mary had forcibly dragged me to Comic-Con, I shuddered. I was still unable to walk past a card board cutout without ducking in reflex. "Trust me, there is _nothing_ scarier than the wrath of a fangirl."

"_Hai_, she is right." A soft Japanese accent commented from the other side of the table, "Fangirls are known to be quite scary."

"See? Thank you by the way," I commented in the general direction of my supporter, then returned to the still somewhat insulted gaze of British man, "And I'm not trying to be rude at all, trust me, but people can interpret the things they see many different ways." I stood up on my own and dusted off my jeans, offering an apologetic smile as I did so. "Helping somebody up can equal hand holding, which means romance, which is bad for me. Especially considering how quickly rumors spread around and get exaggerated. Miss Maid would find out that you and I were… oh I don't know… getting married, or something else just as ridiculous. Next night, I'd probably get murdered in my sleep. I appreciate the gesture though, so thanks."

"You're welcome." It almost came out as a question. "Erm… by the way, what exactly does this woman look like?"

I just stared at him with a blank face before repeating, "Murdered in my sleep."

"Ah. I see. Well, then…" Britain trailed off uncomfortably and straightened his tie. "Good to know, nonetheless."

"Just be aware," I finally offered, not wanting to leave him completely in the dark, "and make your own beverages."

"Kolkolkolkol…" Someone—Laughed? Stuttered? Cried?— from the corner of the room. I ignored the sound before clicking my heels together yet again and re-gathering my confidence.

"So. My question." I clenched my hands behind my back and spoke a little louder. "I need to talk with the person currently in charge of this building, and I was told that it was America." I turned to look at the man in question. "I know you're busy, and hopefully this'll only take a minute of your time. It's about the accident that happened downstairs."

His smile faded from ridiculously-super-happy to polite-good-mood. "I already answered all the cop's questions." His voice sounded tired.

"I know, and like I said I'm really sorry about interrupting. But I'm not a cop and I just need to ask—"

"Not a cop? Dude, how did you get in?" America asked curiously.

"She climbed in through the window." Germany informed the group rather loudly. My face burned scarlet. _Gee, thanks sir. This man just loves to make my life hell._

"Seriously?!" America turned to me, actually looking somewhat impressed.

I glared at Germany, cheeks still pink. _Revenge time, asshole. Ever heard of an eye for an eye?_ "Yeah, and after that your friend over there decided to pick me up and—"

"I escorted her to the premises." Germany swiftly interrupted. I didn't know if I imagined it, but I could have sworn that his face actually gained some color. My glare increased in magnitude. There was no way I was letting this go any time soon. I will bring it up at every opportunity. I mentally decided that we were now feuding. Be afraid, Germany, be very afraid.

"But why on earth did you climb through the window?" Britain asked me, effectively diverting my train of thought. I opened my mouth to reply when France took over.

"Is it not obvious, _mon ami_? Her determination and elegant physique required a different means of entry to reflect her sensual desires—"

"What." I deadpanned just as Britain smacked France over the back of the head and yelled "STUPID FROG! Don't say things like that to a lady!"

America put in his two cents. "You climbed up through a second story window? That's so cool, yo! Totally awesome ninja moves! As expected from one of my citizens!" I raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Citizens…?" Everybody froze and there was dead silence in the room. Then Britain exploded in a fit of totally unprecedented anger.

"YOU WANKER! WHAT THEY HELL WERE YOU THINKING, LETTING SOMETHING LIKE THAT SLIP!" The British man had grabbed the American by the collar and began to shake him furiously. _I hope the poor guy doesn't get whiplash, _I thought, shocked into silence by the Bipolar-ness of Britain. One minute, he's being kind and helping me up and the next he looked like he was ready to slaughter.

"You're making it worse, _imbécile_! No wonder you are the black sheep of Europe!" Frenchie scolded the Brit, and gave him a smack to the back of the head. Britain had gained a scary aura as he slowly turned on the French man.

"What. Did. You. Say. Frog?" He seethed.

"Black Sheep! Black Sheep!" France taunted childishly. "The black sheep of Europe!"

"GRAAH!" Britain, still somehow clinging to America's shirt front, bodily tackled France to the floor. The three of them began to punch and kick each other like their lives depended on it.

"Aiyaa! You western nation always make problem! All of you are children, aru!" Asian Bond villain threw in his opinion. Still stroking his panda in a disturbing way. God, that was creepy.

"_Da_, China is right." I whipped my head around to find the man who had been guarded earlier smiling down at me. He seemed rather nice. "I am Russia."

I gave him a tired smile. "Hello Mr. Russia. Pleasure to meet you." I paused, turning to look at the fight that now included the majority of the conference room. "May I ask you something? How do you calm all of these people down and get anything done? This is absolutely ridiculous!"

Mr. Russia chuckled. "Well, usually Germany yells for the quiet. But I do not mind the fighting. The more they fight, the easier they will be to conquer." His smile had turned slightly darker, but was still friendly overall. "All will become one with Mother Russia."

I blinked, confused, before murmuring, "I'll take that as some kind of code, then." I sighed and clicked my heels together for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day. _Maybe I should ask for Germany to get everybody quiet._ I glanced thoughtfully over at the tall blond man, who stood protectively in front of Mr. Veniziano and was glaring at the continuously expanding group of fighters. _But then again, I'm in the middle of a feud with him, so any favors are a no go. Besides, he looks a little busy._

Feeling impatient, I decided to take care of things myself. "Um, excuse me…?" I lifted a hand hesitantly, but I was ignored.

"Hey!" I shouted, but again, nobody paid any attention. A woman with a frying pan thwacked a silver haired man over the head as Phantom of the Opera strangled the (still sleeping) cat man. I began to glare at the cloud of limbs forming in the middle of the conference room, frustration and anger building to the point of pure fury. _I am so freaking done with this._

I took a deep breath and screamed "OOOOOOOOOIII! CAN EVERYBODY JUST SHUT THE HELL UP NOW **PLEASE**?!" Everyone immediately stopped the fighting, and turned to stare at me. It was a weird, cartoon-y freeze-frame of tie pulling, mid-punching and drop kicking. "Thank you," I cleared my throat, "Look, like is said before, I don't care what you people do, or call yourselves, or call other people, or name your cats, or whatever. You can all be Chartreuse or Ferdinand if you wanted, it's a Free Country. But since all of you are getting uppity and tense for whatever reason, please stop. Because I really _just don't care_. I'm not here for that. Frankly, I have more important things to do with my time." I looked down at America, who was on the floor and had an expression that was a mix of relieved and awed. I took a few steps closer to him and offered him my hand. After some struggling on my part, I was barely able to help up the tall man. "Mr. America. I came here to ask you a question, sir. _Just you_. I only came here because I was worried about my friend, and I was worried about what would happen to her if I didn't do _something_." I ran a hand through my short black bob and stuck the other in my jacket pocket. I gave him a pleading glance. "Is there any way that we can have a private conversation about the accident? It's loud in here, and I would rather not have to repeat myself."

The room was still quiet, enjoying proving me wrong, apparently, and everyone was expectantly waiting for America to answer. He blinked, then smiled really big. "Sure! C'mon, there's a smaller room down the hall." He strode confidently out into the hallway, and I gave a sigh of relief before quickly heading out after him, leaving the freeze-frame fight of crazy people behind in the silent room.

...

Germany Plushies to people who can figure out who everyone is in the "absolute chaos" paragraph. You guys have no idea how fun that was to write...

Also, I own nothing but Jacky and Lauren. HETALIA IS NOT MINE! I needed to add that, apparently.


	3. Chapter 3: Fluffy Intermission

Hey guys!

Just a little quick update. Thanks so much to all the people that review. It really keeps me going!

Also wanted to point out that I'm not too happy with this chapter, it's pretty fluffy. But there is a reason for the fluff, I promise! It kind of had to exist for the plot line. And yes, there is a plot. After this we'll move on to the fun stuff.

Again, I do not own anything Hetalia, only Jacky. (Do I really have to say this every chapter? I doubt I'll suddenly acquire Hetalia and be like OMG U GUYS, I OWN IT! But yeah.)

...

Chapter Three: Some Fluffy Intermission (With Talking Bears)

"Well, I'm just going to come out and tell you that this is really awkward for me, but I'm saying it anyway." I began. America had led the two of us into a smaller conference room on the same floor, and was now standing in front of me as if he was expecting me to do something spectacular, like grow wings and dance the hula. I ran my hand through my hair and cleared my throat. "My friend Lauren was the one driving the baby—er, my car—and crashed into the building. Some asshol—jerk, some jerk cut her off in the middle of the road and she was basically forced into the side of your building. She's fine and everything, thank god, but as you probably know there was a lot of damage that was caused to the building—"

"Thirty-Five thousand dollars' worth of damage, actually." America interrupted, sounded somewhat put off, "'Cause of all the equipment downstairs, I lost a lot of data and stuff. And, like, the structural damage to this place is extreme. It's a hell of a lot of money, more than the average American makes in a year."

My mouth opened, then I closed it, then I opened it again. My face drained of all color. "Oh. Wow. Okay." _This just got a million times more awful. I will find the asshole that made Lauren crash and force feed him adder poison._ "I'll just get to the point then. Lauren doesn't have any insurance." I shut my eyes tight and waited.

"What?" His voice sounded bewildered, but not angry. I peeked open an eye. After deeming his facial expression safe, I decided to keep going.

"Basically what I'm about to ask is irrational and stupid, I get that. But is there any way we could work this out without Lauren going to jail? First of all, she's dead broke. No savings or anything, which is bad enough, but now that there's been an accident…" I trailed off before shaking my head of the depressing thoughts that had entered my brain. "And she's not the strongest person out there, either. She's emotionally weak, if you know what I mean. Jail would chew her up and spit her out faster than you would believe." My voice started to become more panicked and fast-paced. "Look, I hear the rumors about what happens in prisons, especially the State Prison around here. The guards can't watch the inmates all the time and bad things happen. People get hurt for saying the wrong thing. People can _die_." My fists were balled up at my sides, crumpling my jeans. "It happens too often to be a coincidence, and I'm really worried about what would happen to her. Lauren is my best friend, even if she can be an airhead and makes bad choices, and we stick up for each other. I don't know much about the legal system, but if there is _any _way that I can take the blame for this, or work out a way to pay you back I will, I swear it." I sucked in a deep breath. "Please, sir."

He looked at me for a moment before folding his arms and giving a big grin. "Okay!"

"I totally understand, thank you for hearing me out—wait what?"

His smile got even bigger. "I said yes." My brain short-circuited. I made a really intelligent noise somewhere along the lines of "Dwhaaa?" which made America laugh again, "HAHAHAHA! Dudette, you're funny!"

"I can't believe it." I stared dazedly up at him, and felt a smile slowly creep up my cheeks, "Sir, thank you so much. You have no idea how amazing this is. I swear you won't regret it." I extended my hand for him to shake before hesitating. He blinked.

"Something wrong?"

"I was just wondering what I would have to do to pay you back, I don't have much money myself…" I frowned, deliberating. "Thirty five thousand dollars… how many paychecks is that?"

We both sat in silence, when out of the blue America shouted "DUDE! YOU COULD WORK FOR ME!" I flinched backwards before realizing the full implication of his words.

"Eh?"

"Like a secretary! I could totally use a secretary, yo. Like, you could file all of the paperwork for me while I go out and do fun stuff! Oh! And you could run errands for me like a personal assistant afterwards!" America put his hands on his hips, getting really into his idea. "This is great, starting tomorrow, you'll be my new personal assistant!"

"Now hold on just a—" Suddenly the doorway flung open. I scuttled backwards as bodies tumbled through the doorway and pushed each other to the floor. I recognized all of the crazy people from the conference room. _Oh joy._

"Hey dudes! What's goin' on?" I would have rolled my eyes if I hadn't been so stunned. _They were eavesdropping, Dum-Dum, that's what going on._

"America! We need to talk." Germany had been the first one to stand up. His pristine blond hair had fallen out of place, and he delicately slicked it back as he glanced between America and me. "Miss Grey," –_he remembers my last name?_—"If you wouldn't mind waiting outside for a minute, it would be appreciated."

I nodded uneasily, before looking away. His eyes were on me again. "Alright. I'll be out in the hallway." Stuffing my hands into my jacket pockets, I rushed out of the room, avoiding stares and loaded silence from the crazy people around me.

Finally pushing my way out into the hall, I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. The door clicked shut behind me. I moved over to lean on the wall nearby. So far, so good. These people were violent and crazy, but I had been able to convince at least one of them that they should drop any charges on Lauren. That was a success in itself. I just hoped that they wouldn't talk the loud American into changing his mind. A sudden flit of movement to my right caught my attention, and I turned to look at whatever it was.

A man was knocking on the door of the room I had just left, softly pleading to be let in. "H-Hey, g-gu-guys? Can y-you let me in now, p-please?" A Canadian accent filtered his speech and I beamed subconsciously. _Someone else from Canada, eh?_ The man sported longer than average hair, a blond with a slight hint of brown mixed in. Like many other people I had seen that day, the Canadian had a long curl that stuck out the front of his hairdo. He had violet eyes, a pair of glasses similar to America's, and pale skin. What looked like a polar bear cub plushie was tucked safely away under one arm and his free hand was lightly tapping on the door. He wore a tan colored suit that seemed to make him blend into the wall, and if it weren't for the red tie someone could definitely walk by him without noticing.

"Do you need help with something sir?" I offered politely. It wasn't like I could really do much, but he looked so upset the words kind of left my mouth before I could stop them.

The man whipped his head around to look at me, somewhat amazed. "Y-you can see me?"

"Yes," I raised an eyebrow at the odd question. "Yes, I can see you. My name's Jacky. Who are you?"

"I-I'm Canada." I nodded in a friendly way.

"Hello. Were you locked out?"

He nodded hesitantly. "M-most people don't r-really see me, s-so I tend to get l-locked out of places a lot."

I frowned. "Well that's not very nice."

"O-oh no, i-it's okay, t-they do-don't mean to do it, it's no big d-deal or anything…" His stutter trailed off into a disappointed tone. _You're a terrible liar, sir. Adorable, but a terrible liar._

"Are you supposed to be in there?" I asked gently. He paused.

"U-um, w-well I think so. Everybody just kind of r-rushed out of the conference room real fast without saying anything, and I didn't want to get trampled, s-so…" He turned away from me, blushing heavily as he tried the doorknob. "I-it's locked too…"

I sympathized with his situation. "I totally know where you're coming from," I folded my arms and glanced out the window, smiling a little at the memory, "My first day of college I came late to orientation, and I was forced to wait outside the building in the rain because the doors had been locked. Loads of fun, that was. I was only wearing a hoodie, so I was soaked to the bone for three whole hours. By the time the doors opened and everybody came out, I looked like a drowned rat." I chuckled a little. "You can guess how awkward that was."

"T-that's terrible!" Canada looked genuinely concerned for my wellbeing. I gave him a smile.

"Don't worry about it. Besides, I was only trying to make you feel better with that story. Similar situations and all that…" I chuckled. "Guess that didn't really work out, huh? Aw well. Anyhow, if it were me, I wouldn't let it bother me too much. Whatever they're talking about can't be that important." Canada blushed and looked at his feet, now holding his bear plush against him with both arms. It reminded me of a little kid.

"D-do you think so?"

"Yep." I stretched my hands above my head and received a satisfying pull on my lower back. "Aah~! I hope they don't leave us out here too long. It's kind of nerve-racking..." There was a moment of silence. I moved across the hallway from the door, sliding down the side of the wall until I was finally sitting with my back up against it. I patted the spot next to me. "Would you like to wait with me, Mr. Canada?"

"J-just C-Canada is f-f-fine…" He seemed extra flustered by my proposal, fidgeting from foot to foot. "A-are you s-sure?"

"Sit," I commanded, "unless you want to stay pacing for however long until they open the door."

Canada nodded, and quickly scampered over to sit next to me. I gave him a reassuring smile as he glanced over at me. A blush bloomed on his cheeks and he looked away. _Aww. This guy is absolutely adorable… _I grinned slightly at his bear, which was quite realistic closer up.

"So what's the little guy's name?" I pointed to his polar bear, which made Canada smile a little bit. He opened his mouth just as the bear plushie opened its mouth-_wait WHAT!?_

"I'm Kumajiro."

I stared blankly at the polar bear, mind on the verge of panic. "It talks."

"O-oh, u-um yes. This is my friend, he's a polar bear cub."

"It talks." I repeated.

"Y-yes…"

"You talk?" I squeaked at the bear.

It nodded. "Yup."

"Oh." I blinked a few times and pinched my arm. "That hurt, so I'm not dreaming…." I looked from the bear to Canada, then back to the bear, then back to Canada. "He's real, right? I'm not hallucinating?"

"N-no!" Canada shook his head rapidly, causing his bangs and ridiculously large curl to flip back and forth. "No, Kumadano is real and he talks too!"

"_He_ talks… Wait," Curiosity penetrated the eighty zillion other emotions I was experiencing. "I thought his name was Kumajiro?"

Canada's face was blank as slate. "Y-yes. That's what I said…"

The little bear looked up at Canada. "Who are you?" Canada sighed sadly.

"I-I'm Canada, your owner."

"…" I just stared at the two of them, face blank, not wanting to freak in front of them and look like a crazy person. _Just deal with your reactions one at a time, Jacky, _I thought to myself.

First was fear. _HOLY MOTHER OF GOD THERE A TALKING POLAR BEAR! WHAT SORCERY IS THIS?! I'M GOING TO DIE! IT'LL EAT ME! _This train of thought went on for about three minutes, allowing me to get rid all my panic.

Next was my curious side. _I wonder how a polar bear can talk? I thought mammal vocal chords were unable to form basic words and phrases, and from what I've understood and experienced with animals, even if that experience has been relatively small, it doesn't seem that they can understand more than basic concepts like "food". This little guy can do both. That's really cool…_ This went on for about two minutes.

Then, it was time for my logical side. _Well, it doesn't seem like he's all that dangerous. Besides having the ability to talk, the little guy doesn't really look all that deadly. And, you know, he's an adorable little polar bear, so points for that. He was nice enough to greet me, too. _One minute of these sort of thoughts.

Finally I nodded. "Alright." Canada had been looking at me with a confused and nervous expression for the entire period of time that I had silently been staring at the bear. "Guess I'll have to accept that… Talking bears. Who knew?" I leaned back into the wall and ran a hand through my hair, letting out a small chuckle. "This day, _goddamn_. I never thought it could get any more random."

Canada was silent for a second. "Y-yeah? U-uh, how random has it b-been?" I glanced at him, somewhat surprised at his question. He was actually trying to have a conversation with me, and the obvious effort was causing the shy man to go pink in the face.

I chuckled again. _Cute…_ "Well," I leaned in with a confidential tone and a small smile, entering story telling mode, "I'll tell you. It all started with my best friend borrowing my car this morning…"

..xXx..

America sighed, feeling incredibly frustrated. The countries had been arguing for quite a while. The subject? That new chick, Jacky, that had interrupted their meeting and her strange request. Three sides had formed on the issue. The first side argued that the woman didn't seem to be anything dangerous. The second side argued it was too much of a risk. The third side just didn't care, remaining neutral on the issue, and was enjoying themselves at the arguing that was going on. If you hadn't guessed, that side was headed by Switzerland. Surprise!

Honestly, though, America didn't see why it was anybody's business but his own. _He_ owned the building here, and _he_ was the one who had to deal with the ridiculous amount of damage that had happened to _his_ building. And he said so. Multiple times.

"Seriously you guys, I don't know why we're all still talking about this. If I want a personal assistant, I'm gonna get one. And if she is willing to do it to work off her debt, I'm gonna let her." He grinned. "Plus, she's funny, and pretty hot. Who doesn't want a hot personal assistant?"

"America," Britain had his arms folded, "you can't just go about hiring people like that willy nilly. Especially if it's just based on their looks! No wonder your economy's tanked!"

"HEY! I'm still working on it, okay!"

Britain ignored his comment. "Look, if she finds out that we're countries, it could cause a lot of trouble."

America sat down dramatically, letting out a huff. "Dudes, I don't see why this is such a big deal. She doesn't have to know, and from what she said in the conference room earlier, she doesn't even care. She's just here to help out a friend."

Germany decided to have his input. "_Ja_, that's what she _says_. I still don't trust that _frau_. She's too—"

"Vee~! I think-a the _bella_'s really nice! Very polite!" Italy interrupted happily.

Germany shot him a look. "I was going to say devious."

There was a snort from America. "Oh yeah, totally devi-tous—"

"—It's _devious_—" Britain corrected, but America just kept talking.

"—tripping over rugs, saying please and thank you, totally an evil villain in disguise, yo. Like, seriously, I bet she's planning on enslaving the human race."

"I don't appreciate your sarcasm." Germany spoke coolly, folding his arms.

"Oh yeah?" America folded his arms in return, smug expression blooming as he thought of the perfect comeback, "Well I don't appreciate your face!"

There was a general hopeless sigh from the rest of the countries. "That was terrible, _mon ami_," mixed with, "_Mein Gott_, you're a child," and, "No manners, aru."

America held his hands up in defeat, "Look dudes, if it bothers you that much, I can call up some people and get a background check on her."

Everyone who was paying attention blinked, surprised. _That's actually not a terrible idea… _They were even more shocked as America continued his intelligent tangent.

"Besides, if anything goes horribly wrong, we can just cut her off and make her pay the debt back normally. And dudes, who's going to believe her if she starts going around saying that we're the personification of countries? Normal people won't."

There was a long moment of silence. The countries actually didn't mind the idea. Not that they would ever say that out loud, of course. America sure as hell didn't need the ego boost. All of a sudden, China spoke up.

"How ironic, aru. The indebted one come up with the idea to help another indebted person, when he owe all of us billion of dollars. Especially me, aru," He drawled, setting his panda down on one of the many plush chairs before pointing an accusatory finger at America. "I want my money, aru!"

America laughed uneasily. "Ahahaha… Yeah China bro, it's totally coming, I promise…" He whipped out his phone and dialed a number before holding a finger to his lips. "Now shh! I have some calls to make—Frankie, my man! How's it hanging, bro?"

There was a long, uncharacteristic silence as the countries attempted to hear the other side of the conversation. "Nah, man everything's cool. I just need you to look up a name for me. Find out if anything's wrong with this one chick I wanna hire." There was a muffled exclamation from the other end and America blinked. "Right dude, hold on." He turned to the other countries. "Hey guys, what was Jacky's last name again?"

"Grey." Germany coolly stated, acting indifferent to the stares of the other countries. He knew they were surprised that he remembered the woman's last name. He would be lying if he said he wasn't intrigued to know a little bit more about the confident (and HIGHLY annoying) woman. Although in reality, Germany had been slightly impressed at her ability to silence the countries and gain their attention. Besides, it would be wise to get as much information about her as possible, and hopefully discover a few weaknesses in case she turned against them.

"Thanks dude—Yeah, Frankie, it's Jacky Grey." Another pause. America frowned. "What? Yeah, hold on, I'll see if I can get something better…"

..xXx..

"Oh for heaven's freaking sake!"

After finishing my story, I had challenged Canada and Kumajirou to a game of Phone Scrabble to pass the time. Kumajirou politely declined (Read as: flopped backwards and promptly fell asleep), while Canada had hesitantly accepted. He got really into it too. It was pretty amazing, because he had somehow managed to use the words "Maple" and "Pancakes" about four times each. We were running out of space on the game board, and Canada was winning.

"How are you so good at this?" I looked at my phone screen and my remaining letters, desperately searching my vocabulary for a word that included a G, L, S, H and T. _Screw you, consonants_. "It's like you're the God of Scrabble!" Then I laughed a little, "On the weirdest day of my life, I encounter Creepy Germans, Bipolar Brits, Talking Bears, and the Scrabble God. The list just keeps on growing."

Canada blushed and smiled. "I-I'm not that good."

I made an 'are-you-serious?' face and displayed my phone screen to him. I pointed at his score. "This reads 3700." My finger moved over half an inch to my score. "This reads 1500." I pointed at him. "_This_ is good at scrabble. Accept the facts."

Canada twiddled his thumbs and looked away. The man was obviously not used to being praised. "Thank You."

"You don't have to thank people if it's the truth," I muttered, focus returned to the game, "A-ha! I use your 'I' and get L-I-G-H-T-S, lights!" I watched my point wheel spin to accommodate my newest accomplishment and grinned, passing the phone back to Canada with a flourish. "Here you go!"

It took him half a second of analysis before he used my 'S' to spell out S-Y-R-U-P, syrup, and immediately passed the phone back to me. He blushed at my shocked expression. "Y-your turn…"

"How do you _do_ that!"

Canada actually chuckled a little and gave a small shrug. I smiled before turning back to the screen, feeling accomplished for some reason. It didn't seem like he was the type of person who laughed a lot, so making the shy man give a genuine chuckle because of something I said felt pretty nice. All in all, I was feeling much calmer since my encounter with Canada. He was the nicest (and least crazy) of the people I had met today. Playing Phone Scrabble with him seemed to have a soothing effect on my raging nerves. It was a nice distraction from the stressed thoughts I'd been having previously—

And now they're back. God Dammit.

The 'I'm worried about Lauren' thoughts, 'Should I hold a funeral for my car' thoughts and 'Am I really going to have to work for that obnoxiously loud America guy' thoughts rampaged around my brain like sugar high toddlers armed with pogo sticks. My face twisted into a frown and I glared at the screen, hating myself for remembering. _Why is it that every time you want to forget something, it always comes back more annoying than before?_

In an ironic twist of events, it was at this point that America decided to burst through the door to the conference room and scream at the top of his lungs, "DUDDETTE?! YOU STILL HERE?! WE NEEEEEEEEEEEED TO TAAAAAAALK!" This would have been hilarious in context, if I hadn't dropped my phone in surprise, causing the screen to shatter and glass to shoot out all over the floor.

Ha.

"You know, I'm not even surprised anymore." I deadpanned, surveying the damage unhappily.

"A-are you alright? Di-did you get cut?" Canada was instantly hovering closer to me, acting like a mother hen. I blinked, totally surprised and forgetting that I should probably be mad.

"Oh, no, I'm fine. Thank you for asking." The polite response was automatic. I hadn't even checked. Canada obviously didn't believe me and pulled one of my hands closer to him, beginning to inspect it. Still kind of surprised and out of it, I let him. I just trusted the guy, as odd as it sounds, and I had a feeling he wouldn't do anything bad to me. He gave off pleasant vibes, if that makes any sense (And no, I'm _not_ a hippie). Just then, America noticed that I was sitting on the floor across from him. He grinned and waved a hand spastically while the other held a tight grip on a rather strange looking cellphone of his own.

"HI! Didn't see you there, dudette! Hey, I've got to ask-" He looked down and noticed the remnants of my phone. Then he looked up at the ceiling, like he was guesstimating where the phone might have fallen from. _What idiot thinks a phone falls from the ceiling?_

"D-does he really think the p-phone fell from the ceiling?" Canada mumbled, still examining my palms. I beamed at him. _I'm really starting to like this guy_.

"Anyways…" A confused America looked back over to where we sat, "What's your full name? Like, first and middle and last and stuff. No nicknames, just real birth certificate official thingies."

"My full name? Why?" I asked, a little hesitant at giving it to the loudmouthed American, and starting to gain resentment for the broken cell that lay at my feet.

"I need it for your job application…" Oh. Well, duh. Now I felt like the idiot in this scenario.

"Fine." I said, covering my mistake with a professional tone. "It's Jacqueline Hawthorne Grey. Do you need me to spell it out for you?"

The American held up a hand before looking at his phone. There was a moment of awkward silence before he grinned. "Nah, I got it! Stay here, 'kay?"

"Alright—" The door slammed shut and Canada and I winced. There was another moment of silence before Canada spoke up.

"U-umm, I'm s-sorry about your phone…" He released both of my hands, apparently deeming them injury-free.

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault." I gave him a reassuring smile. He was getting a lot of smiles out of me, wasn't he?

"I-I know b-but it still b-broke and—" I raised a hand to cut him off.

"Look, there's nothing you can do about it. It happened. No biggie." I gave a dry chuckle before properly surveying the damage, which basically consisted of me poking at the bigger chunks with the toe of my sneaker. "Looks like the SD card is still intact, so I can save all my contacts and pictures, that's good. I guess the only real drawback out of all of this would be that we can't play scrabble anymore." I gave him a glance. "Although, I think you one the game hands down. Congrats."

He smiled and ducked his head. "T-thanks…" Suddenly a thought occurred to him, and he straightened up. "W-we should call a m-maid to clean t-this-"

**SHA-BANG!**

The door was blown off its hinges as America kicked open the door for a second time. Canada and I had to do an evasive maneuver to the left, dodging the giant oak behemoth as it careened over to where we were sitting. There was another slam as it hit the wall and toppled to the ground. I glanced open mouthed at America before I spoke.

"You just... And the door... It flew... You, _you actually kicked down the door_." I didn't know whether to be pissed or impressed.

"You could have seriously hurt us, hoser!" Canada whisper-yelled furiously. "What were you thinking?!" Somewhere in the back of my mind I registered the fact that he hadn't stuttered, but my main thought process was too absorbed in the fact that America had just kicked down the door in a total 'Fuck-yes-I'm-a-badass' move. In short, I had settled with impressed. Besides, I needed something from America, and yelling at a person isn't exactly the best way to get the favors you need.

America was completely oblivious to Canada's rage, ignoring his comment before pointing a finger at me and beginning to shout at the top of his lungs. "JACKY GREY! WE'RE GOING TO INTERVIEW YOU FOR THE POSITION OF ASSISTANT TO THE AWESOME HERO!" America grinned from the doorway, hyped up to the extreme. "GET IN THE CONFERENCE ROOM, DUDDETTE! WE'VE GOT QUESTIONS TO ASK YOU!"

...

See? Fluffy fluff with my boy Canada. He's adorable.

And America apparently knows how to make an entrance. He's America, after all. He kicks down doors for fun. It's his thing.

Review and critique! I'm only here to improve my writing, so anything you guys have to say helps a lot.


	4. Chapter 4: Interviews and Punk'd

I am so sorry you guys!

My laptop had some issues, so it had to go get fixed, and the people didn't give it back until last week! Grah!

This also took way longer than I thought it would. I put a little Canada blurb at the beginning, and tried to make this chapter extra long to make up for my absence. But enough excuses!

Special shout out to the new group of people that have reviewed and favorited Poor Choices! Thanks a million! *bows dramatically*

So, without further ado...

* * *

Chapter Four: Interviews and Desperate people at Punk'd

She was his citizen.

The moment Canada saw Jacky, he knew she was one of his. As a country, you can always tell. There's a weird, sudden understanding somewhere in the back of your mind that lets you know when you see your citizen. Kind of like a sixth sense. And she wasn't exactly unattractive either, with pale skin, friendly brown eyes and a mess of short black hair, so of course he noticed her the moment she left the East Conference Room.

The amazing thing was she actually noticed _him_ too. Saw _him_. Greeted _him_. And for whatever reason, she had told him random stories with the goal to make him feel better. Her happy, familiar way of speaking worked wonders on his nerves (even though he had still stuttered like a maple-sucking idiot, Canada was never good at talking to girls) and he wound up having the strange sensation that they had known each other for years. It was rare enough for anyone to notice him, even his own citizens. But the fact that they had carried on a conversation for nearly twenty minutes, laughed together, and played Phone Scrabble of all things…

Maybe, just maybe, they could be friends.

A blush rose to his face and he attempted to rapidly shake it off. Canada couldn't get too excited just because he was noticed. It was usually a one-time thing anyways, and getting his hopes up would only lead in disappointment. Besides, when America had darted out of the conference room the second time, Jacky had been so blown away by the door kick it was like Canada wasn't even there. Although, he had to admit, his brother had made a pretty impressive entrance. Maybe if he started to kick down doors he would be noticed by the other countries... But kicking down doors _was_ rather rude. He couldn't possibly do that.

Letting out a heavy sigh as he picked up Kumataco, Canada carefully attempted to navigate through the broken glass on the floor. He had called up a maid about three minutes ago, and was still waiting for one of the staff to show up. His foot accidentally brushed up against the body of the phone, and he flinched instinctively before looking down. A small snippet of a memory flashed in his mind.

**"Look, there's nothing you can do about it. It happened. No biggie." Jacky chuckled a little bit before poking around at the damage with her sneaker. She was dressed remarkably casually, now that he thought about it. How did she even get in the building dressed in jeans and a jacket? "Looks like the SD card is still intact, so I can save all my contacts and pictures, that's good. I guess the only real drawback out of all of this would be that we can't play scrabble anymore."**

The SD card was in there. She needed that, didn't she? _Maybe he should pick it up…_ But it wasn't like Canada owed her anything, and just because she was his citizen didn't mean he had to go out of his way for her. _But it was the nice thing to do…_ If he was her friend he would pick it up for her, then give it back later. Even if they weren't exactly friends. _But they could be…_

As a conflicted Canada shifted from foot to foot, a pretty, light brown haired maid approached him. Her eyes were puffy from crying, and from the occasional sniffle she made it was obvious that the tears had only recently finished falling. It was also obvious that the woman couldn't see him, because she immediately went to work on sweeping up the glass bits from the cell phone. Canada started to panic, still undecided on what to do. As the broom got closer and closer to the larger chunks, Canada finally made his choice, bending down and picking up the piece of the phone that held all the data and pocketing it.

The maid let out a squeak and glanced about rapidly, finally focusing on his floating polar bear. Canada knew she had only seen the phone rise up from the floor and 'disappear' into thin air next to his 'floating' pet. She was now holding the broom in front of her defensively as she watched Kumajingo, nearly scared stiff. "Sarah was right! This place is haunted!" Suddenly her eyes gained a sort of crazed gleam, "Or it's a magical creature. Yes, yes, that's it. It must be a magical creature. I'll capture it, then ask _him_ about it over tea, and we can bond…" The woman stared off into the distance dreamily, slowly stroking the broom in her hand. "You'll soon be mine, love… All mine…" The maid let out a small cackle. "And no one will stand in our way… Come here, you little bear!"

Canada let out a terrified "Maple!" before sprinting away with Kumalito, the maid hot on his tail and laughing histerically. This woman was _nuts_!

..xXx..

**Tap, tap, tap, tap…**

I clicked the tip of my finger against the cool surface of the table, refusing to look up. America had, after literally picking me up and dusting me off after his badass door kick, pretty much shoved me into the small room and slammed the door on a protesting Canada. He then plopped me into a chair on one side of the conference table while _every single other person in the room_ was positioned opposite me. It was a sad case of one versus approximately seventy four. I took a deep breath and attempted to calm my frazzled nerves. _Why the hell do these guys have to pick the most intimidating room arrangement for this interview?_

"So, Miss Grey," Britain, who I gathered was attempting to be the one to direct the interview, spoke up. I chanced a glance upwards and immediately regretted it. He was leaning back in his plush chair in an almost scarily confident pose, legs crossed and elbows propped up on the armrest so that he could press the tips of his fingers together and stare at me over the top of his hands. His voice was pleasant enough, but his eyes were narrowed slightly. "We've decided that this interview will be handled in a rather alternative format. Due to the…_precarious_ nature of your would-be position, any misstep on your part could not only harm my colleague America," He gave a wave of a hand to the right, where America sat grinning happily, "but the rest of us as well. So, we thought it only fair that we have a say in his hiring process. Any of us could ask you a question, and you just answer them to the best of your ability. Is that clear?"

I gave a swift nod. "Yes, I understand."

Britain gave a small smile. "Excellent, who wants to start?"

Mr. Veniziano raised his hand first, waving it animatedly and making little eager "Vee" sounds. Britain gave a general nod in his direction, and the Italian stood up to face me, Curly-Q bobbing with the action. A determined little dent was in between his eyebrows, and he placed his hands on the table, leaning into it before asking in the most serious voice possible, "Do you like-a pasta?"

It took me a moment to register what he said. "…I'm sorry?"

There was a general groan across the room, and a couple people (including Germany) facepalmed. Mr. Veniziano, completely oblivious to their reactions, continued to wait for a response without looking away from me. Which meant he wasn't kidding, and this was a real interview question. I felt my eyes go wide and my pulse speed up. My future job might actually depend on my answer here. _Holy crap._ I clenched my hands together tightly and attempted not to hyperventilate._ I never thought my opinion on noodles would ever have anything to do with my future. Is there a right answer here? __**Do**__ I like pasta?_ Taking a deep breath, I considered the question before deciding to answer truthfully.

"You don't have to answer that—" Britain began, but I cut him off. Mr. Veniziano was expecting an answer, his opinion was eventually going to matter in the overall decision, and I had prepped an answer already. I was _answering_ the question, thank you very much.

"Yes, I do like pasta." There was dead silence as everyone looked at me, but I continued anyways. "I wouldn't eat it every day, but that doesn't mean it's not tasty." I crossed my ankles and straightened up in my chair, surprisingly feeling a little more confident as I continued to answer. "If I had to pick a favorite pasta, it's be ravioli. You can put lots of different fillings in there, and since there are very few things I like eating over and over again, it's nice to have a little variety."

"Vee~! I like-a ravioli too!" Mr. Veniziano straightened up happily and clapped his hands together. "I like-a all the pasta! It's-a my favorite food!"

Mr. Veniziano was rambling now, filling up the surprised silence from the other people in the room. I had no clue why they were looking at me so shocked, but since nobody else was asking me questions, I had no other choice but to listen to the Italian man rant about cooking. And dear God this Italian man could _rant_. He just kept on talking, and nobody interrupted him. I held in a groan. It was obvious he wasn't going to stop anytime soon (he had presented a "thesis statement" of sorts and was now animatedly comparing the pros and cons of white sauce versus red sauce).

In case you couldn't tell, I was regretting my decision to answer the stupid question.

But then, as I scanned the crowd, I realized something. While lots of expressions where now beginning to verge on incredibly annoyed, most of the expressions I saw were actually patiently amused. They were waiting for something. _Why would they… No, _My eyes widened with a burst of clarity,_ I get it now. They're waiting for me to snap._

…

…

_Those clever __**bastards**_. They knew Mr. Veniziano was like this, of course they did! They must have worked with him for ages, being annoyed to death by random pasta rants whenever the Italian man felt like people might have possibly forgotten that the noodle existed. They were probably waiting for me to stand up and scream at the bubbly sunshine man (because, hey, if you guys ever saw Mr. Veniziano, you'd agree that was the perfect way to describe him), and then they'd escort me to the door and Lauren would get sent to jail. It was all a _test_. They wanted to see if I could handle this sort of thing, to see whether or not I was professional enough to take it. I had no doubt in my mind that the whole interview would be like this.

I felt a small smile trail upwards across my face.

_Challenge Accepted, motherfuckers. _

..xXx..

Germany saw the change.

He wasn't sure if anyone else did, but _verdammt_, with all his training it would be a disgrace if _he_ didn't see it. The woman's expression barely changed; shock flickered across her features before quickly being replaced by understanding, frustration, and then finally settling on _amusement_, of all things. It was nearly the same expression she wore when he had put her down in the hallway: a small smile coupled with a determined glimmer, and a sense that _she_ was in control. Capable. Professional.

It frustrated him in all senses of the word.

Miss Grey glanced quickly at the table, like she was collecting herself, before sending a large, friendly smile towards Italy. "Mr. Veniziano? Sorry to interrupt, but do you think that maybe you could let somebody else ask a question?" She gestured to the rest of the countries, the amusement on her face growing. "I know pasta is important, but I think the rest of your friends have questions as well." She gave a pause and raised a playful eyebrow. "Or is that all?"

A few people actually laughed. Italy, being how he was, giggled as well, even though Germany knew that he was only half aware of the woman's comments. The rest was a combination of him being polite in front of a pretty woman and the amount of friendliness that she radiated. Germany shook his head and sighed. Italy had always been too accepting of friendly people. Keeping a healthy suspicion of others had helped Germany on numerous occasions. And currently, that suspicion was focused entirely on Miss Grey.

"No, that's not exactly all." Britain commented. He was barely able to hide the smirk in his voice. "Do you currently hold a job?"

Miss Grey blinked. "Ah… Yes, at an antiques store down the way—"

"And you've worked there for about a year and a half." America trilled happily, obviously excited in knowing something about the woman. Miss Grey stared at him in disbelief. Everybody else glared at him.

"Idiot." Switzerland sighed. Even the neutral country couldn't ignore America's stupidity in that moment.

"How did you know that…?" Miss Grey trailed off.

America beamed over at her before letting out an obnoxious laugh. Miss Grey winced slightly. America leaned in, pushing his glasses higher up on his nose. "Well, you don't expect someone like me to just hire someone like you without doing a background check, right? That's crazy, yo!"

Miss Grey gave a small, hesitant nod. "I guess that makes sense…"

..xXx..

_HE LOOKED ME UP?! HE CAN LOOK ME UP?! WHO THE HELL IS THIS GUY?! _

_What sort of job gives him the resources to look me up in the first place?!_

_Is he dealing drugs? That would explain all of the different nationalities… He has to get his stash from somewhere. And all the laughing, and the silly comments, and the codenames, and the spontaneous fights… He's not just dealing drugs, the man is probably __**on drugs**__ too. _

_Oh my god. I'm in debt to an obnoxiously loud drug trafficker. _

_WHAT DID I GET MYSELF INTO?!_

..xXx..

All of her confidence was gone. Miss Grey was now a bundle of nerves and caution. Germany supposed hearing that someone had looked you up would be a little disturbing, but her obvious distress seemed a little overdone. She must have been acting. Germany's eyes narrowed, distrust growing as he watched Miss Grey speak up yet again. "So, is there anything else you need to know or did you guys just…um, look it all up?" She sounded almost violated. If she was in fact acting, she was doing a very good job.

"Nah," America gave a little wave with one hand, "we've still got questions. Just skip up on the boring stuff, ya know? I don't know about these guys, but I want to hear about you, dudette. You know, what you like and stuff."

"Well, if this truly is going to be a professional environment, I don't see why my personal life is going to have anything to do with your interview. Normally those two things don't go hand in hand." She was getting defensive now, her eyes were narrowed and her arms were folded. But Germany had to agree with the statement. A proper work environment shouldn't require any interactions other than actual work. If anything, the woman had a good work ethic.

"…what?" Of course America had to prove himself to be an idiot once again. His intelligent streaks rarely lasted this long anyways.

Miss Grey gave a small huff of exasperation. "My private life is private. My friends are my friends. I live where I live. I like what I like. I don't understand why that would have anything to do with my ability to work for you." Germany's grudging respect grew a little. She—what was that American term?— oh yes, 'stuck to her guns'.

"But if you are working for America, and he wishes to know something, then you must tell it to him, _da_?" Everyone shot Russia a surprised (and terrified, because you couldn't really be around Russia without being at least a little bit scared) look. "You are in debt."

Miss Grey chewed her lip reluctantly, mumbling something that sounded like "Can't really argue with that one…" Her posture changed for a third time, like she was bracing herself for the worst. "Alright, what do you want to know?"

..xXx..

That little comment seemed to spark a smirk on nearly everyone's face. _Oh no. Not good_.

"What's your favorite color?"

"Do…you…like…cats?"

"Who is your favorite superhero, dudette?"

"Are you currently in a relationship, Ohonhonhon~?"

"What is your favorite food, aru?"

"Which is better, Axes or Swords?"

"You like sunflowers, da?"

"What is your experience with self-defense?"

"Have you ever hit anyone over the head with a frying pan before?" I blinked. Nobody had given me room to answer any of the questions, they'd just fired them off at top speed one after another. And by the looks on their faces, they didn't expect me to remember any of them. _That's where they're wrong_, I smirked inwardly, my confidence returning, _I can do this in my sleep._ I squinched my eyes shut, taking in a moment before opening them and facing the person who'd asked the first question, Britain.

"My favorite color is yellow." I directed my attention to the sleepy cat man next. "Yes, I do like cats." I then moved to America. "If we're talking Marvel, then Iron Man. If we're talking DC, then Batman. They both manage to be epic without superpowers, and that's important." I continued to move down the line, looking each asker in the eye before I moved on. "No, I'm not currently in a relationship, but I don't see what that has to do with anything…? My favorite food is anything with cinnamon in it. And if it doesn't have cinnamon in it, I tend just to sprinkle some on anyways… Don't you dare judge me. Uhm, I know nothing about either axes or swords, but if I had to go on intimidation factor alone, I'd say axes. I have no problem with sunflowers. They're yellow, so of course I like them. I haven't taken any classes in martial arts, if that's what you're asking. But I do have pepper spray. The heavy duty kind, too. And that has to be the strangest question anyone has ever asked me, but no, I don't think I've ever hit anyone over the head with a frying pan before." I exhaled in relief, giving a small, satisfied smile at their gob smacked expressions. "Are we done _now_?"

"If this job required you to keep a secret, would you be able to do it?" The final question came from a shorter, blank faced Japanese man. There was a long, drawn out silence as I thought about it. Inwardly I squirmed a bit at the question, but I tried not to let it show.

"Honestly? I don't know how to answer that." I stared into my lap, refusing to make eye contact. "Depends on the secret. I mean, there's a whole bunch of hypotheticals we could get into here." I looked back up at the Japanese man. "Hypothetically speaking, does this secret involve anybody getting hurt or killed?" A few people gave me a confused once over, but my face remained completely serious. These people where probably drug dealers. I wanted to know.

"_Iie_." He shook his head, so I took that to mean no.

"And, hypothetically of course, if I told the secret, nobody would be hurt or killed?"

It took him a split second longer to shake his head, but I noticed. "_Iie_."

I chewed my lip. "Then no, I wouldn't be telling anybody this secret."

Asian Bond Villian nodded his head. "She is very honest, aru. I approve." I barely flushed, feeling a little warm happy bubble inside at the phrasing of that. _Stupid, stupid! You barely know the guy! And all he said was approve_, I scolded myself, _don't get all worked up about it_.

"AND SO DO I!" America jumped out of his plush chair and posed, giving me a thumbs-up. I flinched at the volume. "YOU'RE HIRED DUDETTE! AHAHAHA!"

"…_really_?" I didn't quite know what to do with myself. "W-wow. Thanks. Thanks a lot! This is great, honest to goodness-ly." I smiled and stood up, ruffling my hair with one hand and stuffing the other in my jacket pocket.

Britain stood up as well, a dissatisfied look on his face. "I suppose that will have to do then…" He straightened his tie, before speaking up in an official voice. "Miss Grey, you are now official secretary to the United States of America. All of your actions will be a representation of the nation that you are working for and therefore you should take the utmost precaution in the way you behave yourself—" Britain paused mid speech as I uncertainly raised my free hand in the air. "Yes?"

"I didn't mean to interrupt, but what exactly do you mean by 'nation' and 'country'?" I used bunny quotes around the words. "Forgive me for saying so, but those words are kind of being dropped a lot. If I'm going to be a working for Mr. America, I figure I should at the very least know what you're talking about."

Cue long, awkward silence. A _Three minute long_ awkward silence. I could practically hear crickets chirping in the background.

"Oooor it's a company secret. That's alright too, I guess. Just interested. Slightly concerned, yeah, but mostly interested."

"I-a think that-a she should-a know, vee~." Mr. Veniziano chirped. There was mixed responses around the room at that.

"No, he's right." America held up a hand, "She should know, dudes." I blinked over at him as his face turned surprisingly serious. "We are the people-ish representations of countries."

"People-ish?" I asked, a little confused smile forming on my face.

"We are the physical representations of various nations around the world."

I raised an eyebrow and scanned the room, watching their reactions to that statement. All of them were straight faced, even the bubbly sunshine Veniziano. I sighed in exasperation.

These jerks clearly had been messing with me the entire time.

"…God dammit, Ashton Kutcher." I muttered, going over to a nearby vase and picking it up, looking for the camera that must have been recording me. "Nobody watches Punk'd anymore! I'm not even famous!"

"Ah, forgive me for asking, _mademoiselle_, but what are you doing?" 'France' asked politely. I rolled my eyes.

"Looking for the cameras. Seriously, where are they? Might as well face the folks at home head on." A few of the—actors, I guess—gave me confused looks as I dropped to the floor, glancing under the table for the well-hidden camera. "I have to compliment all of you, though. Great accents, I actually thought all of you were foreigners . You guys nearly had me. I honest to goodness-ly I thought you were going to help me out, but nope." I waved one hand around, feeling frustrated. "This is all a joke for a stupid television show. Freaking MTV."

"No, I think you're mistaken Miss Grey, this isn't a joke. We are actually countries in human form." The British accent told me it was the 'Britain' actor.

I rolled my eyes. "Of course. And I'm the Queen of Sheba." I stood up to face them and put my hands on my hips. "Look, you guys can cut the act now, I'm sure you'll all get paid anyways. You've probably got enough footage, or whatever."

"_Seien Sie still, frau_. Quit talking and listen to what we are saying. We are being completely serious."

"Riiiiiight." I drawled, laughing a little at the serious slant of his mouth (since I was still refusing to look him straight in the eye). My chuckles died down as I happened to glance around at the rest group, whose faces were still stoic as ever. This Germany guy wasn't kidding, I realized. They were all completely serious. All of them. I began to slowly nod at Germany.

"…Right. Okay." _So they're not businessmen, actors, or drug dealers. They're just __**TOTALLY INSANE**__. I actually feel less safe, now. They might kill me for 'the good of their country'. Fuck, I'm __**doomed**__._ I kept my face straight and nodded a few more times, making my way to the door as calmly as I could. "I understand. See you all tomorrow, then." I was quite proud that my voice hadn't cracked with sheer terror at this point.

"We really _are_ being serious, you know," Commented someone far in the back of the room. I didn't even bother to face anybody. The only thing on my mind was to leave the room before anybody went psycho killer on me.

"Ahahaha…. Yeah. No, I got that much." I was beginning to lose my cool more now, and my chuckling became a little hysterical. "But I really do have to get going. Since I've got the address and everything, I'll come back here tomorrow, dressed nicely, get all of the details for the job, aaaaaaand get to work." I saluted the group, pirouetted towards the opening where the door used to be and sped through it, all in one quick motion. "Okaybyenow."

I ran through the hallway, down a flight of stairs and far, _far_ away from the room full of phsyco killers that I now owed money too.

..xXx..

"Aiya! She thinks we're crazy, aru..."

"_Mis amigos_, this may be a first."

"Dudes, that could have gone better. But at least she's coming tomorrow, right? AHAHAHAHA~!"

"You really are a moron, aren't you?"

..xXx..

I quickly found Lauren, holding hands with the cop from this morning. God, that seemed so long ago now… She beamed and trotted over to where I stood.

"Jacky! You won't believe it! Danny and I have a date set for next weekend! Can you believe it? I can barely believe it! It's so hard to believe!" If I had any energy I would have rolled my eyes at this point. "I'm going to go out with a police officer! A handsome, hunky cop!" She squealed happily. "Oh! Oh! And guess what else! Apparently, Danny got a call from his superiors, and he told me that they're totally calling off the investigation! Nobody's getting in trouble! Isn't that great?"

I nodded dumbly, staring at the ground as she continued to rant about her good luck. _So Mr. Obnoxious Crazy Killer America filled out his end of the bargain, huh? Shit. Now I really do owe him. I'm so screwed. I'm going to die. I have to work for all those people… Those crazy, crazy people… _Lauren saw my expression, and her face quickly flitted to a frown.

"Jacky, what happened? You look like you've seen a ghost." I lifted my head to meet her gaze.

"Lauren?" I droned, voice void of emotion. "We're going to wherever the hell you get insurance. Now."

...

So Jacky tries to give her best impression as a "professional", shows off some memory skills, and then runs away due to countries being honest. But if you think about it, her initial reaction is kind of understandable...

Countries? Pfft... lolz! Yeah right! :)

As before, I'm only here to get better! Please review, it motivates me more than you know!

-Ace


	5. Chapter 5: I Actually Show up

Not gonna lie, I'm not a real fan of this chapter. It seems that the odd numbered ones are like that... huh. Anyhow, this took a while mainly because a certain Italian is really hard to write in character.

Also wanted to point out two more things. First, hiya-exclamationpoint is freaking awesome. Bow down and respect that Pikachu. Second, if any of you want me to write translations for the dialogue that isn't in English, let me know. I will gladly write them out at the end, but right now I've got a lot of other stuff to do and it takes a lot more time to do than you think.

I digress. Enjoy Chapter Five, Ladies and Gentlemen!

* * *

..xXx..

Chapter Five: I Actually Show Up

"Why am I doing this?" I asked the brass lion knocker hopelessly. It was located at eye level on the giant double doors of what I now called **the Asylum**. "I don't want to do this. So why am I doing this?"

I had been asking Mr. Lion this same question ever since my roommate Mary had dropped me off in front of the building about forty minutes ago. She had given me one of her famous loaded looks before shaking her head and pushing her glasses up higher on her nose.

"So your new job is here then? Good luck." I sent her a wavering smile and an awkward laugh.

"Thanks, Mary." I hadn't given her the details of my previous day's exploits. Mary was my other best friend as well as my roommate, who tended to have a default facial expression of _bored_. She was remarkably intelligent, reading anything from medical textbooks to trash magazines if she thought she would learn something and was a very serious, very perceptive kind of person. Unless, of course, cosplay or Japanese cartoons (Anima? Anime? One of the two, I think) were involved. Then she became a giggling, sugary sweet mess of obsession that enjoyed forcibly dressing me up in costume and dragging me to various conventions. I _loathe_ being used as her human dress up doll, but it can sometimes be an effective distraction.

Like it was last night.

The first part of yesterday, when I finally got back to the apartment, I told Mary that I was getting a new job. Basically, on the cab ride home from the local Geico offices, I made up a somewhat plausible story to tell both her and Lauren so they wouldn't have to get involved. If those crazy bastards had the ability to look me up, and they were insane enough to call themselves countries, there was no way I was going to tell them about Lauren and Mary. If I somehow screwed up, any one of those insane creepers might go AWOL and track my friends down just to get back at me, and I wasn't taking that chance. This was my mess, and I wasn't going to let two innocent people get tangled up in something that was my problem and my problem only. Long story short, I pretty much led my friends to believe that I was still in the antique business, but now I was working for a wealthy benefactor who had a reputation of being a little eccentric. It was an intern job, so I wouldn't get paid for a while, but the work experience and blah de blah would help me out in the future and blah de blah. Lauren, being the totally accepting friend that she was, had completely bought the story no problem. Mary on the other hand had peppered me with intelligent, logical questions that were starting to pick apart my story at the seams. So let's just say after some effective diversion tactics, I spent the better part of the evening dressed up as some gun toting chick named Yuki Cross and posing for the camera. And that's all I'm going to say about that.

"Don't call me unless it's an emergency. I have crap to do at the office." Mary commented lazily as I stepped out of the car.

"My phone broke yesterday, so you probably won't be getting a call anytime soon." I informed her.

An audible snort came from the driver's seat. "You're an idiot, Jacky."

"Why do you always assume it was my fault? It wasn't! Mr. Obnoxious was the one who kicked open the door and I—" I cut myself off mid-rant as Mary raised an eyebrow. "Screw it, never mind." I sighed, shouldering my tan messenger bag and straightening out my white dress shirt. "You're coming to pick me up at six, right?"

"I'll think about it." Which in Mary-talk meant: _Of course you idiot, why wouldn't I?_ I grinned, sent her a sassy two-fingered salute, and turned to walk towards the building, attempting to gain a little courage as I went. _I can do this, right? I mean there's no way today would be worse than yesterday. At least I know that they're crazy now, so I won't be **too **surprised if they drag in a dead body. I'm wearing flats so I can run if I need to. Plus, I've got my pepper spray! That'll give me enough time to escape… Right? _

"Hey," Mary's voice stopped me in my tracks and I turned to look at the car. Her hazel eyes were filled with concern, but her face still maintained that bored expression. "Be careful, alright?" A split second later she turned her head to face the road and sped away. I stared slacked-jawed as her car disappeared into the distance.

_WHY DID SHE HAVE TO SAY THAT?! I WOULD HAVE BEEN JUST FINE IF SHE HADN'T SAID THAT!_ My hands started to shake and I could feel my breathing get faster. "Fuckfuckfuckfuck_FUCK_." I muttered under my breath. "Why did America have to go through his end of the deal?" _Honest to goodness-ly, if the guy hadn't called off the cops I wouldn't be in this situation in the first place. But then again, Lauren would be in jail... But now I owe a crazy man money! _

I started to pace back and forth, occasionally dusting off my black slacks, clicking my heels together or straightening my satchel. I would gain some courage, turn to look at the Asylum, let out a little whimper and then start to pace again. It took a very long time before I was even able to get the nerve to walk up to the front doors. Then, of course I totally lost all of it and just started to vent my woes to Mr. Lion the brass door knocker.

Which brings us back to the beginning.

"They're all nuts!" I ranted, pulling on a strand of my bangs as my other hand fingered the strap of my bag. "I don't want to be here. I should go home. I really should." I turned away from the entrance and started down the path a few steps before stopping. "But I owe the guy, and he'll make Lauren go to jail if I don't show up…" I walked back over to the door, and raised my fist, preparing to knock on the door. I felt myself freeze, and I stood there for a few seconds. Then I blew out an exasperated sigh and growled out, "For heaven's freaking sake, I can't even knock on the damn door." I let out a groan before banged my head repeatedly on the door, muttering "Stupid, stupid, stupid" after every collision.

I heard a creak and ignored it, favoring self-injury and therefore continuing to bang my head against the door. I got three more knocks in before a heavily accented voice interrupted me.

"Ahem, _señorita_?" I halted and chanced a glance over to the side, my eyes finally registering an incredibly confused looking man blinking down at me from the doorway. I immediately straightened up, responding politely out of habit.

"Yes, can I help you?"

"…Are you alright?" I thought about it.

"Not quite sure, to tell you the truth. I'm actually in the middle of having a bit of a freak out right now, I think." I commented offhandedly. "I'm also seriously questioning my sanity for even showing up here in the first place."

"Don't worry, _señorita_, I'm sure everything will turn out just fine, _si_?" He gave me a carefree smile. "Your problem will sort itself out in no time."

"I doubt that sir, but thanks anyhow." I rubbed my forehead a few times before taking a good look at the person I was talking to. He was very tan, very handsome, with very green eyes and very brown hair. A jolt of familiarity struck me and I narrowed my eyes. _I know I've seen this guy somewhere before… Holy Crap!_ I took a horrified step backwards as I realized that he was one of the 'countries' from the day before. I wasn't ready for this yet!

The man's face switched from confused to concerned. "¿_Qué te pasa, señorita_? Is something wrong?" I shook my head so fast that my bangs whipped back and forth against my forehead.

"Nope! Nope I'm good!" I let out a hysterical peal of laughter and then stomped on my own foot in order to stop myself. I coughed in an attempt regain my composure as he raised an eyebrow. "Totally fine, I promise."

"Fusosososo~" He…noised? My face flushed indignantly as I realized the _crazy person_ had started to laugh at _me_. This was so wrong! "Well, as long as you are sure, _señorita_."

"Perfectly sure, thank you." I bit out nervously, before taking a deep breath. _Okay, there's no way I'm going to be able to do this if I keep acting like a total moron. Ugh, this would be so much easier if they weren't… That's it!_ My eyes widened as inspiration struck. _Just pretend you're talking to a normal person, Jacky. None of them are crazy, they just have a very **special** sense of humor. You've got this. _I took a deep breath and tried on a smile. I knew it was an awkward one; it felt oddly stretched against my face. But apparently, the Spanish guy bought it. The grin he wore doubled in size and his strange laughter bubbled up again as if my smile had been entirely genuine.

The Spanish man opened the door wide, stepping to the side to allow me to enter the Asylum. I clicked my heels before stepping through, sending him a quick nod of acknowledgement. "You know, _señorita_," He started happily, "I'm pretty surprised you actually showed up."

"That makes two of us." I mumbled under my breath. Spanish man heard me and chuckled again.

"Fusoso~ I hope America brings you to more world meetings, _señorita_. _No estás solamente hermosa, pero interesante también_." Spanish man looked me over appreciatively in a similar way that Frenchie had done yesterday. My eyelid twitched at the flirty comment. _Yeah, better shut that down before that goes anywhere. Not dating crazies—er, strangely humored foreign folk!_ I had taken Spanish classes from sixth grade through college, and had passed all courses with flying colors and an authentic accent. I couldn't help but smirk inwardly. Might as well shut the guy down with something he's comfortable hearing, right?

"_Gracias, pero n__o me recuerdo dar usted permisión de usar la forma "tu" conmigo, señor. Si recuerdo correctamente, "tu" es solamente usado entre amigos. Y yo sepa nada sobre usted_." I commented airily, glancing about at my surroundings as if speaking Spanish was nothing. Spanish Guy's eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly. I sent him a bright smile, switching back to English and entering professional mode. "Although, I would appreciate it if you could send me to Mr. America. As you know, I kind of left a little early yesterday before anybody had a chance to set things in stone," here I rubbed the back of my head with an 'aw-well-what-can-you-do?' sort of face, "but I think I'm ready to deal with the situation today." _As ready as I'll ever be, anyways._

"_Claro, señorita_." Spanish guy was smiling again, his unbelievably white teeth bright against his tanned skin. A passing maid swooned. "You know, your accent is actually very good. Where are you from?"

"Canada…" I looked away and straightened my blouse self-consciously, making a mental note to get better at receiving compliments. "Where do I go again?"

"Follow me, _señorita linda_," Spanish guy started walking down the hall, while my eyelid twitched again. _For heaven's freaking sake, this guy is incorrigible…_ "Come, come!" His voice startled me out of my thoughts, and I realized he was already halfway down the hall.

"Eh?" I blinked a few times before scampering after him. "Oh Yes! Sorry!"

"Fusososo~" He sent me another close eyed smile. "You're very cute when you're flustered, _señorita_."

_So he's obviously not going to stop flirting, then. That's more than a little frustrating._ I sighed for a moment. _Even If I shut him down he just keeps on calling me cute and pretty. But you know… There are people who just tend to flirt, even if they don't realize it. Hell, Lauren's a prime example of that. All things considered he's probably just like a guy version of Lauren._ So after a moment, what eventually came out of my mouth was: "Thanks. You're not half bad yourself." I sent him a small, non-flirty, completely honest smile. Or at least, that's how I hope it came out. His grin widened.

"_Gracias señorita_!" He raised his arms up behind his head, looking completely relaxed and very much like a model. "We should make introductions, _si_? I am Spain." He looked at me out of the corner of his eye and quirked an eyebrow. "_Y…_¿_usted_?"

I chuckled a little bit, hiding my discomfort with a smile. _So he is **definitely** a "country" then…_ "Jacky. Jacky Grey. Nice to meet you."

Spain hummed happily. "I'm glad to meet someone who speaks _mi idioma_ so well. Especially someone as cute as you, Jacky." He put a little extra Spanish spice on my name, reluctantly causing me to give a snort of amusement.

"Are you just going to keep complimenting me, or are we going to have an actual conversation?"

"Well now, _señorita_, I thought we were having a conversation. We are both sharing, _como se dice…_ Ah! Sentences. I speak, and you give _repuestas_. Does this not count?"

I paused, giving a slight shrug. "Touché."

Spain's eyes went wide. "You speak French as well?" I opened my mouth to say no but was cut off by Spain, who was still talking. "Have you met France? Ah! _Si_, you have, I remember from the other day. You know, France _es uno des mis amigos_, we get along very well. Prussia too. _Nosotros somos amigos muy intimos_. We call ourselves the Bad Touch Trio for… well, for reasons. Reasons I would be happy to show you sometime, Jacky. Fusososo~! Romano is a very close friend of mine as well, I practically raised him. He is just as adorable as you are, _señorita_! When he gets flustered he turns red, _como un tomate_! I grow my own tomatoes in my back yard you see, so _es fácil de comparar los dos colores_. With tomatoes you have to wait to see if the color is just right before picking them. I do a lot of other gardening too. Do you garden at all, _señorita_? It's a very entertaining pastime, you know. Spending time _en la naturaleza_, it's a good way to spend afternoons. But back to my little Romanito, I should show you the baby pictures, _si_?"

There was a pause while I gaped open mouthed at the talkative Spaniard who, after spewing all of that out in less than thirty seconds, was eagerly waiting for a response. "Um… sure?" I offered after a minute, because really, what was I supposed to say after that?

"_Excelente!_" Mr. Spain deftly reached into his suit pocket, rummaging around happily while I stared at him in semi-disbelief. This carefree man was so easy going that it was catching me off guard, and I was already high-strung. Maybe he was luring me into a false sense of security before he pounced? I had to be more careful.

As the Spaniard pulled out a thick leather wallet, a voice from down the hall caused us both to turn to face the noise: a furious, earth shaking, husky growl of pure hatred. "SPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIN!"

A brown blur tackled Spain from behind, sending my escort tumbling to the ground and causing my hair to whip painfully against my face due to the wind force created by the speeding thing. I feverishly wiped my now messy locks out of my eyes, glancing down to see (to my eternal shock and horror) a man straddling and strangling Spain.

"_Stupido__ bastardo spagnolo! Mi hai lasciato da solo in albergo, e ho dovuto camminare fino a qui! E 'stata una passeggiata sette miglia in salita. Io vengo in, per lo meno in attesa delle scuse, e cosa vedo? Stai chiacchierando con una ragazza! Stronzo__!_" The Italian man's curl was crunched up and quivering with rage, his eyes were narrowed, and when I really got a good look at him, I realized he looked a whole lot like Mr. Veniziano. Not soon after that came the realization that Mr. Spain was turning blue from lack of air. Panicking, I scrambled through my satchel and started to mumble desperately to myself.

"Bubbly sunshine man has an evil twin, of course he has an evil twin! My life makes no sense anymore—random crap happening—Where the hell did it-AHA!" I pulled out a thick, black bottle and pointed it's nozzle at the angry Italian. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to get off Mr. Spain!"

The Violent Italian man's gaze shifted over to my own, channeling all of his evil intent through his hazel eyes. I gulped involuntarily. "This-a does not concern-a you."

"Like Hell! He can't breathe! And I have pepper spray!" I shook the small bottle in my hand for emphasis. "Ever been spritzed with this stuff? No? Well, get off Mr. Spain or else you'll know exactly what police quality, crowd-dispersing chemicals feels like." I declared loudly, letting my index finger hover the nozzle threateningly. Violent Italian man actually looked a little bit taken aback for a moment, loosening his grip a little on Spain's neck and allowing the Spanish man to wheeze out a few sentences.

"It's alright _señorita_, this is just _mi tomate_'s way of showing affection!" Spain choked out. I raised a disbelieving brow before glancing at Violent Italian Man again. Quickly running through possible scenarios, I remembered yesterday with Mr. Germany and decided to handle this in a polite, casual way.

"So this is affectionate for you, huh? Remind me to never get on your bad side." I said in an almost joking tone before I paused for a beat. "Just get off the Spaniard, _please_. God, I really don't want to witness a murder today. Or any day for that matter."

Violent Italian man's copper brown eyes locked with mine, his gaze unreadable. Then, without breaking eye contact with me, I watched his fingers pry ever so slowly away from Mr. Spain's neck. Spain let out a gasp, then grinned before pulling the Violent Italian Man into a hug. Violent Italian Man gave a grunt of surprise and squirmed in his grip. "Romano! It's so good to see you!" Relief flowed through me, but I still frowned as I lowered my weapon. Romano. This was Romano? The kid who got babysat? _But he's my age, and Mr. Spain can't be that much older than I am either… Just how does that work? And as long as we're questioning things, WHY IS HE HUGGING THE GUY WHO JUST TRIED TO MURDER HIM? Affection be damned! That's just not natural!_

"Let go of me _bastardo_." Romano grumbled moodily. "I'm-a still pissed off at you."

"_Lo siento_, Roma, I was—"

"DON'T-A CALL ME THAT!" Wide-eyed, I stumbled backwards from the sheer volume of the scream and dropped my pepper spray in order to cover my ears. Both men swiveled their heads to stare at me. Mr. Spain quirked an eyebrow. My face flushed.

"Loud…" was my weak explanation. Then I cleared my throat before bending down and picking up the Mace. "Sorry. I'm a bit…I'm a bit high-strung today."

"Clearly," was the Italian's snarky response. I was barely able to stop myself from glaring at him.

"Hey, yesterday was crap, alright? I'm justified." I huffed quietly. Ignoring the amused snort from Romano—_He'scrazycrazystrangehumornobonding_— I dusted off my pants and clicked my heels together. "Right, okay. Mr. Spain. Do you think we could…?" I jerked my thumb down the hallway in the direction we were headed before. "Or you could just tell me where to go and continue your…" I waved my hands towards their entwined bodies. "Thing?" _Honest to goodness-ly, I'd rather NOT be around the Violent Italian Man any more than I have to be. _

"Oh _si_! _Lo siento_ Jacky!" Spain and Romano scrambled around each other before Spain popped to his feet like some kind of handsome jack in the box. Romano got up in a more normal way, slouching slightly as he stood. Mr. Spain threw an arm around the Violent Italian's shoulder and laughed. "Fusososo~! _Vámonos_! Romano will come with us!"

_Shit. _

After a moment of deliberation, I sighed. It's not like I could say 'No, I'm sorry, but your friend scares the crap out of me, and I think he might be homicidal. I would prefer if we locked him in a closet and ran for our lives.' I needed a guide, and Spain was taking me where I needed to go.

"Alright, but there's one condition..." I lifted the pepper spray so that it was eye-level with Romano. He blinked. "The _moment_ you make a move to strangle _anybody at all_ you will feel the burn. Do I make myself clear?"

Romano frowned. "He left-a me at the hotel, I had to walk-a seven miles uphill to get-a here, and you expect-a me to just-a LET IT GO?!" He fumed.

I turned to look at Spain. "You left him to walk…?"_ Okay then. That sort of explains Romano's strangling... That's still a major overreaction though. Although, I'm really surprised about Mr. Spain. He seems really friendly on the surface, but deep down he's actually a dick. He's all craz— **strangely humored** and then SURPRISE! Dick. _Spain seemed to see the judgment in my gaze and he faltered, waving his arms about defensively.

"I-It was an accident-!" He started, and I raised a hand to stop him.

"You're apologizing to _me_?" I raised an eyebrow, before making a gesture towards Romano. "Try again, but look at the guy next to you."

Spain instantly hugged Romano. "I didn't leave you on purpose, Romano! I thought you had left without me already, so I went to catch up with you! _Lo siento_ Roma~" he whined pitifully.

"I said, don't-a call me that you FUCKING bastard." Romano growled, beginning to squirm yet again. Finally, he managed to throw Mr. Spain's arms off from around his neck. "Are-a we going or what?" He gave me a grumpy look—his cheeks actually flushed a little bit too—and grabbed Spain by the elbow, tugging him down the hallway. I had to speed-walk to catch up to the two of them. I made sure to walk on the other side of Mr. Spain, standing as far away from Romano as socially acceptable and fully prepared to use the Spaniard as a shield of sorts in case the Italian became homicidal again.

I decided to keep quiet as we trudged down the hall, stowing the pepper spray in my satchel as I walked. Mr. Spain began to babble to Romano in his mixture of Spanish and English, occasionally waving to a passing maid. Most of his speech was scattered and irrelevant, and he was clearly only focused on speaking with Romano, so I zoned out and looked around.

I hadn't noticed much about the hallways before. When I looked around, though, I realized they were actually really nicely furnished. Tall windows stretched from floor to ceiling, illuminating the entire place. Ornate vases and exotic potted plants would crop up every ten feet or so. The floor was a dark cherry wood, precisely matched to the crown molding on the ceiling. I wasn't entirely sure, but based on the way the light from the windows hit the wood, the wear on the surface suggested that it was at least forty years old. Of course, the surface had been pristinely maintained, probably because of the maids, and I'd have to take a really close look at the wood for any definite conclusions…

God, I'm an antiques nerd.

I let out a long sigh and ruffled my hair with one hand. It wasn't entirely my fault, I guess. Nana Buckley, my adventuresome-to-the-point-of-possible-suicidal-te ndencies of an aunt, had a habit of bringing home really interesting artifacts from her travels. Anything from old puzzle boxes, porcelain dolls, and fancy tapestries would litter our house floor to ceiling. Lewis and Cameron, my cousins, would sit with me in front of Nana as she would dramatically pull out the newest addition to her eclectic collection. Everything she brought home was just so _awesome_, so I guess that old wood and fragile toys just kind of slipped into my brain as things that were exciting. Sure, it wasn't the most normal hobby, but for me it's always been fun to imagine the _stories_ behind a piece…Yeah. Nerd.

But neither Lauren or Mary ever stopped me from dragging them into Art and History museums and going through my little habitual guessing game of how old each exhibit was (Probably because there was an unspoken deal afterwards that I would do something that they wanted to do—like dress me up and take me clubbing. Not my idea of fun, but Lauren likes the men and Mary likes the dancing, so what can you do?)so I guess my hobby wasn't all that bad-

"_Señorita_ Jacky—"

"MOTHER OF-!" I jumped three feet in the air and whirled around. Spain and Romano both gave me surprised looks, although Romano's was more amused than it had any right to be. Strangely Humored Jerk. "Y-you scared me!" I clenched at my heart defensively.

Romano just shook his head. "You're not-a gonna last-a with the American _bastardo_ if-a you startle that-a easily."

I folded my arms defensively. "I don't startle that easily. It's just been stressful."

And he just _smirked_.

My jaw dropped in indignation. "I can _handle_ myself, thank you very much." I bit out finally.

His smirk _grew_.

_Stay calm, stay calm. _Taking a deep breath, I was barely able to restrain myself. _He's a psychop—**strangely humored** Italian, so don't get him mad._ My teeth ground together behind the tight-lipped smile I gave Romano. "Thank you for your concern, _sir_. I appreciate it. It's so rare to get such_ kindness _from a stranger, especially when they know absolutely _nothing_." His face twisted into a frown while I turned brightly to Spain, content with his reaction. _Sarcasm. It's a wonderful thing_. "And you called me because…?"

Spain chuckled and gestured to a door on the right. "We're here _señorita_."

Mentally, I began to panic. I thought I had more time to plan! "Um…Wasn't it on the second floor yesterday?" I was proud my voice didn't sound as nervous as I felt.

"_Si, pero_ this is where America is. We'll be going upstairs for our business. Will you be alright down here?"

"Probably not." I offered my hand for Spain to shake. It didn't matter if these guys were strangely humored; they might be the last people I had contact with before I was tortured to death. I was shaking their hands. "It's been nice knowing you, Mr. Spain." I said, honestly and rather pessimistically.

"Fusososo~!" Spain gave me a charming closed-eyed smile and took my hand, pulling me in for a tight hug. "_Señorita linda_, I'm sure we'll meet again, so it is better to say _hasta luego_, not _adios_."

I floundered under his vice-like hug. "T-that's great," I gasped, "CanyouletgonowpleaseI'mdying!" Surprisingly, Romano was the one who understood my pleas and pulled me from the Spaniard's grip.

"_Bastardo_," he grumbled under his breath, fingers digging uncomfortably into my arms. I tensed. Romano turned to lock eyes with me and there was a long moment of silence. _Oh God, what do I do? What is **he** going to do? Is he going to strangle me? Maybe I shouldn't have been so sarcastic earlier, he looks angrier than a cat caught in the washing machine! _I stared wide eyed into his copper orbs and waited for my demise. Eventually, he took a deep breath and then spoke. "…Good-a luck working for the hamburger _bastardo_. A stupid _ragazza_ like-a you is-a gonna need it."

I blinked. "Um…" Hesitantly, I reached up to pat the violent Italian on the shoulder. "T-thank you?" _Wait… Good Luck. Good Luck? Why does this feel like a final farewell? _I felt my panic rise for the umpteenth time that morning. _WHAT DOES HE KNOW?_

Romano grumbled, flushing a light pink, then released me and folded his arms. "_Idiota_." I pursed my lips together in anger, my panic taking a backseat to my frustrations. _Okay, calling me an idiot was a little much, you strangely humored jerk._ Nonetheless, I took a few steps backwards out of arms reach before giving him a frosty comment.

"Look, I may not know how to speak Italian but I can figure out that much. And you know what? I am many things Mr. Violent Italian Strangler, but I most certainly am not an idiot." I huffed, glaring up at the Italian. He glared right back down at me.

We had a stare down.

Romano was the one who broke first, giving me a strong sense of satisfaction. He turned on his heel and mumbled something in response, probably curse words, then grabbed Spain by the collar. As he was being dragged away, Spain waved enthusiastically.

"_Hasta luego, señorita linda_! I shall show you the pictures later!"

I gave a weak wave in response, waiting until they turned the corner before turning to face the door. _Déja vu. Lovely_. Exhaling, I clicked my heels together.

"Aaand here we go."

**_Knock Knock Knock_**

* * *

I want to say thank you for all your reviews! Please keep it up guys, your comments are great motivators.

Special Review Thanks to:

**300Pasta** (Thank you so much for reading this and sharing it! I'm honestly glad you like it so much, I didn't think so many people shared my sense of humor… J ), **LurkingPheonix** (I know, I pity England too. *Cue evil laughter* Oh, and don't worry, The Maid will be making more appearances in the future), **AngelSayori**: (I'm so glad you like my OC! And yes, this is a Nation x OC, but you won't be finding out who's she's paired with for a while yet. Muahaha.), **vaskeemi** (I shall continue! I promise!), **SageofAges729** (World meetings are fun to write, and my Laptop says thank you for checking in. He's taking his meds and doing his best to stay healthy), **UltimateOtakuGirl100** (Prussia awesome? Really? *squeals happily* Err, I-I mean thanks a lot.), **Face15** (YES! I HADN'T THOUGHT OF THAT BUT I REMEMBER THAT SHOW!), and **Xsier** (I really wanted to write somebody realistic, and I'm glad you like Jacky. She's so much fun to write!)

Really, thank you all for sticking with me through my erratic updates. At _worst_, if nothing life-changing-ly traumatic occurs, I hope to do this every two months.

**_-Ace_**


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